


nothing on my mind (but you)

by defrostedbucky



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Architect Steve Rogers, Awkward Flirting, Brock is an asshole, Chef Bucky Barnes, First Meetings, M/M, Meet-Cute, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Strangers to Lovers, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark is also a very persuasive friend, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, basically everyone is a good bro, because Steve is a Mess who doesn't know what he's doing most of the time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-05-04 07:25:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14587977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defrostedbucky/pseuds/defrostedbucky
Summary: “Careful,” A deep sultry voice says, causing Steve’s face to heat up in embarrassment.“Uh, thanks.”Steve, still feeling quite embarrassed, straightens his posture and plucks up the courage to look up at the man who just saved him from face-planting on the sandstone paving.Wrong move.You see, Steve Rogers has an eye for aesthetics.It comes with the job. He’s an architect—he knows when he sees something beautiful, and he certainly knows how to appreciate them.So it’s really no wonder that the man in front of him is taking his breath away.“Oh,” Steve breathes out, suddenly frozen in his spot.The man, as it turns out, isgorgeous.or in which Steve Rogers is a 29 year-old architect who pretty much convinced himself that he doesn't have time for romance and is contented with his, according to Tony,'very lonely and very much single'life. Well, that is, until he stumbles upon Bucky Barnes. Literally.





	1. Chapter 1

“I told you a million times, I’m not going to do this project.” Steve says exasperatedly as he makes his way to his living room.

He draws up the blinds to let natural lighting into his apartment, trying his hardest not to spare a glance at Tony who came barging in his apartment without informing him beforehand. Not a single text or call to tell him that he’s going to drop by. Nothing.

Tony didn’t even give him the chance to change out of his sleeping clothes and get his daily dose of caffeine before he starts persuading him again to design yet another building for him.

Steve is a self-employed architect, and he’s Tony’s go-to whenever the older man wants to venture out more and create new facilities for his company. He’s also one of the reasons why Steve has a steady stream of clients. Tony knows how efficient Steve works, how much Steve values his time and his presentations. 

And maybe that’s why Tony always refers him to his stinking rich ass friends, which Steve is grateful for. He really is.

But sometimes, Tony treats him like he’s his employee. And that attitude of the billionaire almost costed them their friendship a few times in the past.

“You’re the only one I trust with this.” Steve turns around to finally face Tony, with a deadpan look on his face, completely not having the other man’s bullshit. Tony visibly winces but quickly recovers. “Come on, you know it’s true. What? You don’t believe me? That’s hurting my feelings.”

Steve shakes his head as he makes his way to the kitchen for some coffee. He wonders what he did wrong to deserve this, especially this early in the morning. He goes to open a cupboard hoping to find something to eat for breakfast, but finds the cupboard empty. He sighs, already convinced that this day is already the worst.

“I’ll do whatever you want. Just take this project. Come on, Steve,” Tony pleads, following him to the kitchen. Steve grabs a mug from the cupboard and pours himself some coffee, his body begging for caffeine.

“No.” Steve stands his ground. “I already did your HQ’s in D.C. and Manhattan. I also did your vacation house in Winchester. Not to mention the mansion you have in Malibu. Isn’t that enough? Find another architect for this project. I’m not doing it.”

“Steve…”

“We already talked about why I’m not doing this project, Tony, please,” Steve says, already feeling annoyed. He doesn’t have the patience to do this conversation all over again, if he’s being honest. They’ve already been through this five times in the past two weeks.

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose and scrunching his eyes closed, definitely getting frustrated with Steve.

“Is this about Brock?” Tony sighs and looks at Steve, defeated. “Is he bothering you again? I’ll tell him to back off. Just—”

“I am not going to sign up for another project with Brock.” Steve says with finality in his voice. He stares the other man down, clenching his jaw. He can already feel a headache coming just by mentioning Brock’s name. “I’m already stuck with him as it is because of your building in Boston. If you want me to design for you again, you have to drop Brock, at least for this project. Maybe get Peter to lead for once.”

Tony sighs heavily, rubbing his face frustratedly. “Peter is great. He’s a gem. An angel. But you know that he’s still a baby. He needs more guidance and coaching. Which we’re doing. Right now. Obviously,” Tony reasons as he flails his hands to make a point. “The point is, Brock’s the best option for this. And I can’t exactly fire him because his uncle is a part of my board and that’s gonna create conflict which I don’t want because I’m already on thin ice with my little stunt last month so...”

“Then I don’t know why you’re still here.” Steve takes a sip from his coffee before walking away from Tony.

Tony catches up to him in the living room and grabs his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Steve, come on buddy...”

“Just drop it, okay? You know damn well why I don’t want to work with him anymore,” Steve says, before putting his cup of coffee down on the coffee table. “After the project in Boston, I’m done. I’m never going to work with him again.”

“I know, I know. But maybe we can sort some things out? I don’t have anyone else, you know that. You’re the only one I trust to design my buildings. I’ll even pay you double this time. Just give me the number and you have it,” Tony insists, giving Steve a hopeful look.

“Brock is a pain in my ass, Tony,” Steve says slowly and carefully. He’s trying to make the other man understand that working with Brock is never going to be in the cards for him ever again. No amount of money will change his mind on the matter. “If I continue working with him, I’m going to wake up one day with my license being revoked. He’s an egotistical asshole who can’t get his head out of his ass. He doesn’t know when to stop and listen.”

“But—”

“Tony, my reputation and credibility is at stake here. Please.”

“Steve, come on.” Tony’s grip on his arm tightens, his face pleading. “I need my best architect.”

Here they go again.

“For the millionth time, Tony,  _I’m not your employee_ ,” Steve hisses.

Tony scoffs at him, looking offended for a moment. “Of course, I know that.”

“Then act like it,” Steve almost exclaims. His neck and the tip of his ears are starting to feel warm and he knows he’s starting to look red from the blood rush.

Tony opens and closes his mouth a few times before sighing in defeat and shaking his head.

“Okay, fine, whatever. It doesn’t matter anyway.” Tony waves his hand in front of Steve dismissively. “At least I tried.”

“Quite a lot, I might add,” Steve sidecomments, earning him the infamous Tony Stark Eye Roll. He takes a deep breath, calming himself down.

“Anyway, let’s not talk about me anymore,” Tony says, before flopping down on the couch next to him.

Steve snorts. “You always talk about yourself.”

“I—” Tony furrows his eyebrows, eyes widening and looking at Steve offensively. He’s clearly trying to think of a response, but fails. “Well, okay, you’re not wrong. But anyway, about my gala...”

“See? It’s still about you.”

“The gala, Steve. We’re talking about the gala now. Not me.” Tony props his arm on the arm of the couch and leans his head on his hand, looking at Steve expectantly. “It’s tonight. You’re going, right? Because you know I’m not gonna take ‘No’ for an answer this time.”

Steve exhales deeply. “Do I really have to?”

“Pepper’s expecting you. She’s gonna be real disappointed if she doesn’t see you tonight.” The billionaire smiles at him smugly.

“That’s low, Tony. Even for you,” Steve grunts.

Tony knows he has a soft spot for Pepper, and he’s  not afraid to use it against him. The bastard.

\---

Steve isn’t really fond of galas.

It’s too  _rich people-esque_ for his liking.

He’s not ‘elite’ enough to be in these kind of events, too ordinary to be a part of something as opulent as a charity gala. He’s just a regular guy who likes to go to art museums during his day offs and collect coffee beans from different cities. But being Tony Stark’s ‘friend’, he doesn’t really have another option, does he?

If it wasn’t for Tony guilt-tripping him, every single time, he wouldn’t even think about coming near these kind of occasions.

“Heads up, Golden Boy.” His friend, Sam, who’s also invited to the gala, nudges his arm and breaks his train of thought. “Looks like you’ve got some admirers.”

Steve rolls his eyes. He sighs before looking at his friend who’s nodding his head towards the left side of the bar while taking a sip on his glass of scotch. There, sitting at the end of the bar, are three good-looking women whispering and staring in their direction.

“I want to go home,” Steve mutters before taking a sip of some overly-expensive champagne he doesn’t know the name of.

“You have three stunning ladies drooling over you and all you say is  _‘I want to go home’_?”

“I won’t necessarily call it drooling. And come on, Sam, we all know I’m not the one they’re ‘drooling’ over.” Steve says in a self-deprecating tone.

Being the small guy majority of his life, Steve still finds it disorienting when he looks at his reflection in the mirror. The attention he’s getting because of his appearance after his  _growth spurt_ (whatever you call it) is not as ego-boosting as other people may think.

“Okay, shut up. You damn well know that’s not true. Give credit where it’s due, man. You’re easily one of the best-looking guys out here,” Sam says before taking another sip of his scotch. “Can you at least talk to one of them?”

Steve takes a glance at the three women, stares at them for a moment and realizes that he wants nothing to do with any of them.

“No thanks.”

“Aw, come on, man. Just talk to one of them. The brunette looks cute. And as I can recall, you have a thing for brunettes, right?”

“Fuck off,” Steve mutters without heat, flipping him off before downing his glass of champagne in one go. “Anyway, I think I’m going to head out for some air.” Steve announces, standing up from his seat and loosening his neck tie just a bit. This whole suit is suffocating him and he can’t wait to take it off once he gets back home.

“Killjoy.” Sam rolls his eyes at him with exasperated fond.

“You know this isn’t my scene,” Steve says, taking a glance at the three women who are slowly inching closer and closer towards them. It’s making him a little bit, no scratch that, really uncomfortable. He doesn’t want to endure a night of small talk and obnoxious flirting that he knows will lead nowhere. Maybe Sam can handle it, but he can’t.

“People are dying to get a chance with you and you don’t even care. Man, you’re something else,” Sam says, shaking his head in disbelief before clasping his shoulder.

“Trust me, they’d rather talk to you than me,” Steve replies, smiling weakly. “And besides, you know I have no time for flings.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You and your hopeless romantic ass.” Sam waves his hands before smiling back. “Text me when you’re ready to go.”

Steve says a quick goodbye before patting him on the arm and walking away.

“Don’t get lost!” Sam shouts when he’s already near the door causing some of the guests to look at him momentarily. Steve just chuckles and lowers his head before waving at Sam one last time and walking out of the function hall.

\---

When Sam shouted “Don’t get lost!”, Steve didn’t put much thought into it.

But as it turns out, Sam’s warning was a real warning after all.

Whoever designed this building probably wants Steve to deck them in the face. The place is elegant and beautiful, sure, and the Baroque style seeping through the architecture of the building is something Steve can very much appreciate. But, for the love of God, there shouldn’t be this much unnecessary corners in a damn building.

Steve only wants to find an outdoor garden and get some fresh air, but the layout of the building is making it impossible for him to do so, and it’s starting to get him a bit hot under the collar from irritation. Or maybe that’s just the champagne talking. He did have a few glasses of champagne, or three. But hey, no one’s really counting. His alcohol tolerance has definitely improved throughout the years and it’s all thanks to Tony.

The moment he finds the outdoor garden, Steve can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

He opens the door and is immediately greeted by the cool September night air. He takes a step on the patio overlooking the garden and inhales deeply, welcoming the fragrance of the garden—an array of floral scents that Steve can finally enjoy, especially now that his allergies aren’t acting up as they used to back when he was younger. The outdoor garden isn’t that big, but it’s enough to house a bunch of in-the-season flowers. They’re in full bloom, the moonlight and artificial lighting of the garden making them look even more stunning.

He’s just a few steps away from the railing when he notices a man standing by the door and trips over a protruding paving.

But before he can even process what is happening, strong, firm hands brace his arms, stopping him from falling on the patio face first.

“Careful,” A deep sultry voice says, causing Steve’s face to heat up in embarrassment.

“Uh, thanks.”

Steve, still feeling quite embarrassed, straightens his posture and plucks up the courage to look up at the man who just saved him from face-planting on the sandstone paving.

Wrong move.

You see, Steve Rogers has an eye for aesthetics.

It comes with the job. He’s an architect—he knows when he sees something beautiful, and he certainly knows how to appreciate them.

So it’s really no wonder that the man in front of him is taking his breath away.

“Oh,” Steve breathes out, suddenly frozen in his spot.

The man, as it turns out, is  _gorgeous._

He’s as tall as Steve, but the way he holds himself in his blue velvet suit makes him larger than life. He also has the kind of face Steve often sees on TV and magazines—sharp cheekbones and a chiseled jawline—and the way his hair is tied back in a slick bun just accentuates them even more. He has a stubble that’s maybe five days old, give or take, which makes his jawline look sharp as hell.

Steve shakes his head lightly before apologizing. “Sorry. I didn’t know someone else is out here. I can go—”

“It’s okay,” The man says.

“I really didn’t mean to intrude.” Steve apologetically looks at the man, before looking out at the garden. “I just needed to get some fresh air, and this is the only place I could find.”

“I won’t hold it against you. It took me almost ten minutes to find a quiet place around here. I’ve already heard four people complaining about getting lost earlier.”

“Make it five,” Steve replies, and it catches him by surprise when the other man laughs quietly.

“Can’t really blame you for that. This place is confusing.”

Steve huffs out a chuckle. “Don’t get me started.”

The man gives him a small smile before gesturing him to go on. “By all means...”

Steve’s irritation from earlier comes back, causing him to take a deep breath and start rambling about how beautiful the place is and how it’s got gorgeous Baroque interior details, then proceeds to complain about the unnecessary walls and corners. He finds himself telling the man about how buildings like these should have more open spaces so the users can easily access it. “I’m not one to judge, but— Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to— Don’t mind me.” Steve tumbles through his words, suddenly feeling twice as embarrassed as he did earlier.

He should not have opened his mouth.

The man looks at him for a moment, studying him. “You know what you’re talking about,” The man says, leaving no room for arguments.

“I didn’t mean to talk your ears off with boring stuff.”

“You didn’t,” The man says and smiles at him reassuringly. “You’re a designer, I’m assuming.”

“I’m an architect,” Steve replies, bashful.

“Ah… That makes sense. Where do you work?” He inquires, cocking his head in interest, his eyes glued to Steve.

Steve’s stomach flutters. He knows this is just small talk, something he promised himself he would never engage into tonight, but the interest in the other’s man eyes and tone of his voice are just... He seems genuinely interested in what Steve is saying. 

Steve hasn't met anyone in such a long time who's actually interested in anything he has to say, that talking to a man (a gorgeous man, he might add) is reducing him to a blushing, stuttering mess. Pathetic, is what he is. Sam and Tony would be laughing if they ever saw him acting like this. 

“I’m self-employed. But I usually get my hands full because of Tony, so…”

“Tony?” He furrows his eyebrows. “Tony Stark?”

“The one and only.”

“You’re friends with him?” The man asks, his tone curious.

“Yes?”

“You’re not sure?” The man says, almost as if he’s teasing Steve. Steve fights the urge to roll his eyes.  _That’s not something you do when you meet first acquaintances, Steven,_ the voice of his late mother echoes at the back of his head.

“Yes. I’m friends with him,” Steve says with more conviction, a small smile tugging on his lips.

“That’s more like it.” The man smiles at him.

They stare at each other for awhile, causing Steve’s neck to heat up from the attention. The man looks at him with furrowed eyebrows before coming to a realization. He straightens his suit jacket before holding out his right hand and introducing himself. “I’m Bucky, by the way.”

Steve takes his hand and shakes it. “I’m Steve.”

And all the blond can think of as he shakes the other man’s hand is how warm and firm his hand is.

“I’ve never met a ‘Bucky’ before,” Steve blurts out after shaking the brunet’s hand, cringing inwardly as he realizes what he just said.

“Well, now you’ve met one,” Bucky replies, smirking at him.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Steve looks at the ground.

Steve really needs to work on his social skills. He has no problem when it comes to talking to his clients and employees; it’s second nature to him to be mentally present at all times. But with this man standing in front of him, he’s finding it hard to keep his thoughts in line.

"So, I take it, you’re trying to get away from the gala?” Bucky asks suddenly, leaning on the railing beside him.

“Galas aren’t really my thing,” Steve admits before smiling weakly, leaning on the railing as well and looking out at the garden.

“It’s suffocating, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Steve agrees, a weak smile tugging on his lips. He turns his head to face the other man, only to find the brunet already looking at him. “What about you? What are you doing out here?”

“Same thing as you,” Bucky replies, giving him a brief smile. “People are starting to get loud and handsy back there. I’d rather not involve myself in that type of scene. Not really my thing.”

Steve snorts.

“What?” The other man looks at him, amused.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “It’s just, with a face like yours, that’s kind of hard to believe.”

There’s a small smile forming on the other man’s lips, his eyes never leaving Steve. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

Fuck.

He just made a pass on a stranger. Just a few moments ago, he said he didn’t like small talks and obnoxious flirting, and look at him now.

 _It's the_ almost romantic _vibe of the garden_ , Steve convinces himself,  _And the champagne. Definitely the champagne_.

“I—”

“I’ll take it,” Bucky cuts in and puts him out of his misery, before flashing him a boyish grin that makes him look so much younger.

Steve shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. He needs to get a grip. This is honestly embarrassing, even for him, and he’s dealt with a lot of embarrassing stuff all his entire life. He lifts his gaze back to Bucky, determined to not make a fool of himself any longer, before asking, “What about you? What do you do?”

“I cook.” Bucky shrugs. Steve raises his eyebrow, causing Bucky to chuckle lightly, a sound Steve is pretty much starting to like. “I’m an all-around chef.”

“Really?” Steve’s interest bunches up a notch. Not only is this guy gorgeous but he can also cook. Jesus Christ. “Where?”

“It’s just a small restaurant in Brooklyn,” Bucky replies nonchalantly, making Steve think that it’s not the case at all.

But before Steve can even reply, a woman in a gorgeous red mermaid gown appears at the doorway, making them turn their heads quickly.

“There you are, James. I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” The woman says, looking at Bucky.

_James?_

Steve turns to look at Bucky who’s straightening his posture, causing Steve to do the same.

“Why?” Bucky asks the woman, but his eyes are on Steve.

“Stark wants to talk about the wedding,” The woman replies before her gaze lands on Steve. Her posture suddenly changes, a Mona Lisa smile slowly tugging on her lips. She looks at Bucky with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you have company.”

“You know Tony?” Steve whispers to Bucky, narrowing his eyes at the other man.

Bucky rolls his eyes and gives Steve a small smile.

The woman clears her throat. Steve turns his attention to her. Her red gown compliments her fiery red hair, Steve thinks as he watches her walk towards them with oozing grace and confidence. She’s so beautiful that it's borderline intimidating.

The woman stops in front of him and introduces herself, holding out her hand. “Natasha Romanoff.”

Steve takes it and introduces himself as well. “Steve Rogers.”

Natasha tilts her head as she looks at him, her eyes glinting from the moonlight. “Nice to meet you, Steve. I see you’ve been keeping James company tonight. I hope he’s not giving you a hard time.”

“Oh, he, uh... He's not—” Steve stops and looks at them back and forth, his cheeks heating up.

“Shut up,” Bucky hisses at Natasha before turning to Steve. “Ignore her.”

Natasha raises her eyebrow at them before sighing. “As much as I hate to stop whatever it is you two are doing, we really need to go. Stark is waiting for us.”

“Our appointment is next week.”

“He wants to talk to you  _now_.”

“I came here tonight to get away from work and have a good time.”

“You know how insatiable he is. Just talk to him for a bit.”

Steve takes a step back as he watches the two of them banter.

“No,” Bucky says with finality in his voice.

“James.” Natasha narrows her eyes at him, challenging.

“I’m—” Bucky stops, throwing a quick glance at Steve. “—busy.”

“Oh, are you now?” Natasha smirks at them. “That’s cute.”

Bucky is about to say something in retaliation when his phone starts ringing. He huffs at Natasha then looks at Steve briefly.

“That’s Stark,” Natasha says in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone.

Bucky fishes out his phone from his pocket and rolls his eyes before answering the call.

“Barnes!” Steve hears Tony shouting from the phone as Bucky pulls it away from his ears.

“Told you,” Natasha comments as she crosses her arms on her chest before throwing Steve a wink.

The brunette holds his finger up and walks over near the bush filled with hydrangeas. “What do you need, Stark?”

“So…” Natasha steps closer to him as she looks at him from head to toe. “Where are you from?”

Steve gulps.

“Brooklyn,” He replies, suddenly feeling interrogated.

Natasha hums approvingly.  “How old are you?”

“29?”

“You’re not sure?” She asks, just like Bucky.

“I’m sure.” He replies, straightening his posture.

“Are you single?”

He almost chokes on his own spit.

“I, uh…”

“What? It’s a simple question.” Natasha tilts her head to the side.

“Yeah, I’m single.” Steve gulps again, his throat feeling dry.

Natasha flashes him a mischievous grin before asking, “You like men?”

But before he can even process Natasha’s question, Bucky appears in front of them with a stern look on his face.

“Natasha,” Bucky says, a warning.

Natasha just huffs before walking towards the door. “Fine. I’ll tell Stark you’re  _busy_.”

“No need. I’m coming with you. Just give me a few minutes.” Bucky waves her off before turning his attention to Steve. He looks at Steve apologetically. “I’m sorry. I—”

Steve smiles at him warmly before saying, “It’s okay. It’s Tony. Better not keep that man waiting.”

“I had fun tonight,” Bucky says before side-eyeing Natasha in the corner. “While it lasted.”

“It was nice meeting you,” Steve says, giving the man a small smile. “I gotta ask though...”

“What?” Bucky smiles at him, somewhat looking amused.

“So… What's with ' _James_ '?” Steve asks, his tone laced with curiosity.

“It’s my real name,” Bucky replies with a sigh before chuckling lightly. “Natasha is the only one who calls me that. She thinks Bucky is a silly name for a grown up man like me.”

“Where did Bucky came from?” 

Bucky just gives Steve a confident smirk, taking a step forward. “That’s a story for another time.”

Steve’s throat feels dry all of a sudden.

“Yeah?” He hopes the strain in his voice doesn’t give him away.

“Yeah. If you want,” Bucky replies before smiling warmly at him. Steve can't help but smile back. The brunet’s eyes travel down to his neck, his lips twitching. “You might want to—” He motions towards his neck.

Steve looks down and sees his loosened necktie. “Oh.”

Steve winces, embarrassed. He must've looked like an utter mess next to Bucky. He hastily fixes his tie before looking back at Bucky and thanking him.

“I’ll see you around, Steve,” Bucky says as he smiles, before taking a step backwards.

“Okay,” Steve breathes out, watching Bucky walk away, joining Natasha at the door.

It’s not until Bucky spares him one last glance before walking inside the venue that he realizes he didn’t get his number and the only way he can contact him is through Tony.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading sweeties :D let me know what you think xx
> 
> twitter: defrostedbucky  
> tumblr: defrostedbuck


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! i'm back with another chapter! i'm thinking of posting every wednesday but i don't know if that will work lmao let's just see.
> 
> also i'm not an architect, though i am an architect graduate so... lmao the argument that happens in the first part of this chapter is actually true to life haha my boss had the same argument with someone and adapted it here. 
> 
> anyway thanks to sam, my home girl, for beta-ing this chapter for me. ily <3
> 
> hope you enjoy xx
> 
> p.s.  
> i will add more characters and tags as the story progresses.

It’s only Wednesday, and Steve already wants to set himself on fire.

He’s tired and it’s not the kind of tired he can explain, even if he tried. He can feel it seeping through his bones, and frankly, Steve is already at his breaking point.

His mood only worsens when Brock Rumlow storms into his office an hour before their firm closes with an armful of blueprints tucked under his armpit.

“Okay, we gotta talk.” Brock starts. He carelessly closes the door behind him, and struts over to Steve. He dumps the blueprints on the table, not even caring that he almost knocked the coffee cup off the table. Unbelievable.

Steve doesn’t even get to put his pencil down before Brock starts yapping at his face with his “problems” regarding the architectural designs they submitted a week ago. Steve’s remaining self-control snaps when Brock starts telling him that they’re going to replace some of the materials that Steve personally specified and revise a part of the plan without consulting him first.

“Why did you relocate the stairs on the ground floor?” Steve asks as he stares at the blueprint in front of him, pencil marks with X’s and circles all over the plans. He looks at Brock with an intense gaze, almost breaking the pencil he’s holding in half.

“I changed it so the building would have more space for the—“

“Did Tony ask you to change it?”

“We need more space for the function rooms, and the stairs are just gonna block the extension, and—”

“Did Tony ask you to change it?” Steve asks one more time, voice cold.

“I told you, the function rooms are—“

“No, that’s not what I asked you,” Steve grits through his teeth, slamming the pencil on the table. “Now, let me ask you one last time, did Tony ask you to relocate the stairs?”

Clenching his jaw, Brock replies, “No.”

“So why did you change it? And why am I not consulted beforehand?” Steve stands up from his chair, gripping the edge of his table tightly, his knuckles turning white. “You can’t just change the materials for this. I specifically designed them to make _your_ job easier. I’m the head architect for this project, if something goes wrong with this building, I’m the one who gets blamed for it.”

“And I’m the head engineer and contractor here. I get to change the specifications of materials when I see fit.” Brock glares at Steve and leans closer, planting both his hands on Steve’s table. The air between them thickens, even the almost-dead plant on Steve’s table can feel it. He really doesn’t have the patience for this right now.

He’s literally just a second away from punching Brock in the face, when someone knocks on his door.

Taking a step back from his desk, Steve runs his hand through his hair to distract himself from actually decking Brock across the face and says loudly, “The door’s open.”

The office door opens, revealing his assistant, Wanda. She’s poking her head from behind the door with a worried look on her face. She must've heard them arguing. Great.

“Sir?” Wanda looks at Steve, her head tilted sideways. Steve nods, motioning her to come inside.

“Do you need anything?” Steve asks.

Wanda steps inside his office and walks over to his table, handing him a folder. “This needs to be signed, and I need to verify if you’re still going to push through with your meeting with Ms. Hill tomorrow. I think it would be wise to reschedule, sir. You look restless.”

“I’m fine, Wanda,” He replies. He takes the folder and signs his signature before handing it back. “Tell Maria I’ll be expecting her at 12:30. I still have a meeting with Coulson at 11.” Steve replies, feeling himself getting more tired by the minute.

He really needs to take a day off. Or two. He’s getting overly-fatigued and it’s starting to physically show. He hasn’t been sleeping well these past few weeks and the dark circles under his eyes are solid proof. He’s well aware that he hasn’t been taking care of himself as of lately, but what else is new? He can’t even eat right, granted the fact that he only lives off of take out since he can’t cook to save his life. And even then he has to be mindful of the things he orders because of his allergies. He’s sure wherever his ma is, she’s definitely looking down on him with that disappointed look on her face.

“Okay, sir.” Wanda says, before looking at him and Brock back and forth with a concerned look on her face. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” Steve replies. He smiles at her briefly, before nodding. “You can go now.”

Wanda nods back at him before closing the door, leaving him alone with Brock again.

He diverts his attention back to the contractor, pursing his lips into a thin line. “Anything else?”

Brock scoffs at him and gives him a nasty side eye. “I’ll leave the blueprints here. The sooner you finish, the better.”

“Consider it done.” Steve smiles sarcastically, clenching his jaw in the process.

“I’ll be back next week Rogers. We’re not done yet,” Brock mutters before stomping his way out of Steve’s office.

Steve sits back down on his chair and rubs his face in frustration, before looking begrudgingly at the  blueprints on this desk.

Honestly, Brock can go fuck himself.

\---

“Well, you look like you’re in a bad mood.”

“Tony, stop.”

Steve lifts his gaze from his laptop, his glasses slipping from the bridge of his nose, to see Tony and Pepper at the doorway of his office.

It’s been two hours since Brock left, but Steve’s mood didn’t get any better. At all. As a matter of fact, he feels worse now because not only is he stuck with more work to do, but he’s also starting to develop a mild headache from the stress Brock managed to leave inside his office. His office reeks of  irritation and frustration.

He had his evening all planned out. He thought he could actually go home right after working hours for the first time in two weeks, and have the night all to himself. It was something he rarely got to do anymore because of his work schedule. He was gonna stay on his couch all night, while he ate whatever’s left in his fridge or cupboard and binge watched Brooklyn Nine-Nine. It was a good plan. But instead, he’s here inside his office, working  overtime, yet again, just to finish his work and get started with the revisions as soon as possible, flushing all his plans for the night down the drain.

Steve sits up and takes his glasses off, putting them down next to his laptop. He quickly runs his fingers through his hair before asking, “What are you guys doing here?”

“Can’t we just visit our favorite person at work?” Tony asks rhetorically as he slumps down in the chair in front of Steve’s desk. Pepper follows suit, and sits next to Tony, rolling her eyes fondly.

“Okay, that suspiciously sounded like you need something from me,” Steve says, raising his eyebrow at Tony before leaning back on his chair.

Tony looks offended and ready to whine in protest, but Pepper puts a hand on his knee and squeezes. She smiles at Steve before saying, “I’m so sorry for barging in on you without any kind of notice. We tried to call you but you weren't answering your phone. We called Wanda instead and she told us you’re working overtime. Again.”

“Yeah, I had to finish some—” Steve looks at the blueprints Brock left. “—stuff.”

“Oh, did we come at a bad time? Maybe we shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay,” Steve assures her, giving her a reassuring smile.

“See? He’s okay with it,” Tony butts in, pointing at Steve accusingly. Why he always did that? Steve may never know.

Pepper rolls her eyes before whispering to Steve, “I’m so sorry on his behalf.”

Steve bites the insides of his cheeks to prevent himself from chuckling. This is why he loves Pepper.

“So you two are ganging up on me now? Great.” Tony rolls his eyes, scoffing and crossing his arms on his chest like a child. He’s always been a Drama Queen, Steve should already be used to this.

Steve chuckles lightly, shaking his head. His sour mood from earlier is starting to fade the more Tony talks. He figures it’s more because of the fact that Tony’s whole aura is just too overwhelming that the brief memory of the interaction he had with Brock is suddenly being shoved aside at the back of his head. “What do you need?”

Tony clears his throat. “You know it’s gonna be our wedding in March, right?”

“I’m one of your groomsmen, Tony,” Steve says flatly.

“Okay, so you see, you’re one of my closest friends. Have I told you that? You’re one of my top five—”

“Honey, get straight to the point.” Pepper shakes her head before letting Tony continue.

“You know you’re my favorite, right? Except maybe for Rhodey. But you’re still my favorite. Just for today. Maybe. But of course you already know that. I never fail to text you about it once every few weeks. Which reminds me, why aren’t you responding to my texts? That’s a real bummer, Rogers. No one—”

“Tony,” Pepper says warningly, her lips pursed into a thin line.

“I’m getting to it, jeez.” Tony looks at Pepper incredulously. Pepper smacks him in the chest, earning an “Ow!”  from Tony.

“What he’s trying to say is—”

“I want to tell him! I’m—”

“We’d really like to hire you to do the interior design for our reception,” Pepper cuts in, looking at Tony again and giving him a stern look. She looks back at Steve and smiles at him warmly. “We know you’re very busy with all your projects, but it would mean the world to us if you did this.”

“I don’t—” Steve looks at both of them back and forth, letting out a nervous laugh. He clears his throat and sits up straight. “I don’t really think that’s a good idea, Pep. I’m not really an interior designer. That’s not my field.”

He catches Tony rolling his eyes, almost causing him to throw one of his pens at the man.

“Stop being so modest, it’s making me sick,” Tony complains, causing Pepper to smack him on the chest again. “Ow! I’m really starting to think you like hurting me.”

“Don’t mind him. He’s just acting weird.”

“When is he not acting weird?” Steve counters, earning him a small smile from Pepper.

“Should I leave, and give you two some space? Jesus.” Tony dramatically stands up from his seat to prove his point.

“You’re such a drama queen. I don’t know why I even put up with you,” Pepper says with exasperated fond, grabbing Tony’s wrists, forcing him to sit down again.

“It’s because you love me, dear.” Tony leans towards Pepper, making a kissy face.

“I do, unfortunately.” Pepper rolls her eyes, but Steve can see the fond glowing from her face. It’s a good look on her.

Steve stares at them as they banter, a small smile playing on his lips. He’s a hopeless romantic, as much as he hates to admit it. Whenever he gets to watch his friends interacting like this, it warms his heart. He wants this. He wants the bickering, the longing stares, and the thrill that comes with falling in love with someone who is practically your very best friend. He always believes that building a relationship with friendship as its foundation is the strongest type of relationship there is. But that requires having to interact with people and getting to know them and then eventually becoming friends with them, and he’s not sure if he’s ready to give a part of himself to new people just yet. He’s already given the good parts of himself to the wrong people and he’s not ready to do it all over again.

But sometimes, looking at his friends’ stable relationships, like Tony and Pepper’s, it makes him think that maybe, just maybe, having this kind of relationship isn’t too far fetched for him. But then he remembers all of his failed almost-relationships, and then he’s back to isolating himself from any potential relationship. He’s too busy to waste his time on something that he knows will be temporary.

He’s content with his life. He doesn’t need to be in a relationship to be happy. He doesn’t need anyone to make him feel whole. Or at least, that’s what he convinces himself to think most of the time, when he’s all alone in the confinements of his room. But he’s happy, nonetheless. He’s happy to see his friends’ relationship bloom and grow before his eyes. He’s happy that Tony has Pepper to keep him in line, and he’s happy that Pepper has Tony to brighten up her life.

Tony and Pepper’s bickering suddenly gets interrupted when Tony’s phone starts ringing. Tony pulls his phone from his pocket and stands from his chair, “Oh! It’s Red!”

“Don’t call her that.” Pepper chastises.

“Whatever you want, honey.” Tony rolls his eyes dramatically before kissing Pepper on her cheek and making his way to the door.

“Good evening, _mon cher_. Is it ready yet?” Steve hears Tony ask before he walks out of the office.

“Steve,” Pepper says, grabbing his attention. Steve knows what’s coming next. “About the reception…”

Steve looks away and nervously combs his hair backwards with his fingers. “I’m sorry, Pep. I really don’t think I’m qualified for that. Interior Design is not my expertise.”

“Steve, you’ve been designing Tony’s buildings for years now. You’re the only one we can trust with this.”

There’s that line again.

_You’re the only one we can trust with this._

Honestly, it should flatter him. Tony and Pepper knows what they’re doing and they’re trusting Steve with everything that involves design. It really should flatter him. But truth be told, it kind of scares him a little bit. He knows he’s good at what he does, but this much faith in him is not something he can wrap his mind around to that easily. He has been working with Tony for almost four years now, but the amount of trust he and Pepper give him gets too overwhelming sometimes.

He’s never been good with compliments. Compliments regarding his work and designs are no exception. He can take them, sure, but that doesn’t mean he takes them very gracefully.

“That’s different.” Steve tries to reason out.

“But, Steve…”

“I’m sorry, Pep. But not this time.” Steve smiles at her apologetically. “I would love to, but I know I’m not the best with interior designing. I could do it, but... I just don’t want you to regret it. It’s your wedding. Your reception should be handled by the best.”

Pepper sighs in defeat, before smiling back at him. “I understand. But please… think about it, okay? If you change your mind, we’re just a phone call away.”

Steve nods. “And please don’t let Tony out of your sight for the next few days. He’s going to bribe or blackmail me to do it. You know how persistent he is.”

Pepper laughs softly, nodding. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep him in check.”

“Pepperoni, it’s time to go!” Tony exclaims as he re-enters the office. “The food is ready.”

“If you call me that one more time, I swear to God, Tony…” Pepper warns him.

“So, did he say yes? He did, didn’t he? Of course he did. He can never say no to you,” Tony says with so much confidence.

“He said no,” Pepper replies.

“I said no.”

“What? Excuse me?” Tony does stumbles backwards a little bit. “Did I hear that right? You said no?”

“I said no,” Steve repeats himself.

“But—” Tony sputters, before strutting towards Steve.

“Honey, please respect Steve’s decision.” Pepper stands up and places her hands on Tony’s arms to stop him from climbing over Steve’s desk.

“But he—”

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Steve apologizes, throwing Tony a weak smile. “You need someone who’s an expert in this field, and that’s not me.”

“Do you secretly hate me now?” Tony asks, but Steve can hear the insecurity behind the question. “You’ve been declining all my offers this past month and—”

“I don’t hate you,” Steve says softly, smiling reassuringly at Tony. He knows Tony doesn’t have many people that he can call his ‘real’ friends, and as much as the billionaire seems to look like he doesn’t care... He cares. He cares a lot. “I just feel like I’m not qualified for this.”

“Honey, let’s just drop it, okay? He’s helped us a lot in the past. And he already promised to help us with the flowers. He’s already done enough,” Pepper reasons, causing Tony to sigh beside her.

“Okay, fine,” Tony replies before narrowing his eyes at Steve. He stares at Steve for a moment before saying, “You’re coming with us now.”

“Why?”

“We have an appointment tonight for the food selection. You’re gonna help us pick. No big deal.” Tony glares at him slightly. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna reject this too.”

“Tony, no. He’s busy.”

Technically, yes, he is. But the more he looks at Tony, the more guilty he feels. So he stands up, running his fingers through his hair for the nth time this evening. “It’s okay, Pep. It’s the least I can do. And these can wait.” Steve points at the blueprints. It’s Tony's building anyway. He’s sure he can ask for a one-day extension. Fuck what Brock thinks.

“Are you sure?” Pepper asks.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Steve answers, closing his laptop. “Besides, it’s free food. Can’t say no to that.”

“That’s our Golden Boy.” Tony clasps his hand together, causing both Steve and Pepper to roll their eyes at him. “Stop rolling your eyes at me. You all love me!”

\---

The first thing Steve notices about The 107th Test Kitchen is the vinyl record player just in the far right corner of the room.

After he gazes away from the vinyl record player, he’s confronted with the kitchen’s industrial design and it’s making Steve’s heart constrict inside his chest.

There’s nothing in this world that gets him going more than a good industrial design.

It’s probably the most rustic test kitchen he’s ever seen in his life.

The wooden floor extends all throughout the kitchen. The walls are left bare, the concrete texture amplifying the industrial feel of the place. There is an accent wall of red bricks in the left corner where the sink and preparation area is located. There are two massive ovens right beside the stoves. The wooden trusses of the roof is left as it is, which Steve appreciates because the woodwork of the trusses look phenomenal. The right side of the kitchen appears to have a hallway leading to another room, which Steve supposes is a lounge area.

It’s beautiful.

“Welcome,” A tall, good-looking, british guy says as he ushers them further inside the kitchen. He dusts off his apron and takes it off, putting it on the stool next to the kitchen island. “Nice to meet you. My name is James Falsworth, but you can call me Monty. I’m the Senior Food Editor here in the test kitchen.” He shakes their hands before asking them to come over and sit on the stools right in front of the island.

Steve looks over the island and sees a huge table filled with different kinds of food. From appetizers down to desserts. It’s a full course meal. And they look like they just got done a few minutes ago.

“Good evening, Monty. Nice to meet you,” Pepper greets him with a soft smile on her lips. “Looks like there’s more than one James here.”

“Unfortunately, there’s another James here besides me and Chef. We call him Jim. He’s the Visual Editor.” Monty flashes them a bright smile.

“So where’s the Boss?” Tony butts in, as he walks around the island to the table, looking at the food. Steve sees him touch what looks like an appetizer, his eyes widening while he tastes it.

“Chef is still in his bedroom, making himself look presentable. There had been a flour mishap earlier in the storage room, I’m afraid,” Monty replies as he turns his head to look at what Tony’s doing before shrugging. “But he’s already done with cooking the main course so we’ll have no problem with anything. I hope.”

“Bedroom?” Steve whispers to himself, curious about the layout of the place, but apparently he said it loud enough for Monty to hear.

“Yes, he lives here,” Monty replies, leaning his weight on the island. “This is Chef’s house. But he said it was too big for him so he converted this part of the house into our test kitchen. He can’t do much work anymore in the restaurant, unfortunately, so he spends most of his time here instead. He takes care of perfecting all the recipes here.”

Steve tilts his head in curiosity. “Oh, why?”

Monty is about to answer when they hear footsteps coming from down the hallway.

“Chef, they’re here!” Monty yells.

“I’m coming!” The Chef yells back before emerging from the hallway.

Steve’s breath catches in his throat.

There, making his way towards them, is Bucky, looking as breathtaking as the night he’d met him.

“Buckaroo!” Tony greets Bucky.

“You’re late,” Bucky says, but in a teasing manner.

“He went to a Burger King drive-thru on the way here,” Pepper confesses, causing Tony to look at her with a betrayed look on his face.

Bucky chuckles quietly as he shakes his head, looking at Pepper. “Typical To—” He stops mid sentence when his gaze lands on Steve. Steve almost squirms in his seat, willing the ground to eat him up alive.

To say that he never thought about the man at least once would be a damn lie. Of course, Steve has thought about Bucky after meeting him last Saturday at the Gala. It was a rare occurrence for him to get along with a stranger, let alone hold a conversation with them. He was on the brink of actually asking Tony about him, but well… work happened.

Bucky stares at him for a good ten seconds before Tony butts in.

“Buckaroo, you’ve met my lovely fiancé, Pepper.” Tony points at Pepper.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, his gaze never leaving Steve.

“And this…” Tony walks both of them towards Steve. “This is our Golden Boy, Steve Rogers. He came to help us pick the food. Steve, this is our chef extraordinaire, Bucky Barnes.”

“Hi,” Bucky breathes out.

Steve diverts his gaze for a second, willing his cheeks not to heat up, before looking back at the brunet. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Bucky repeats, causing Tony to look at him weirdly. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” Steve repeats back, his eyes never leaving Bucky’s face.

“Yeah, we’re here,” Tony suddenly cuts in, waving his hand. “Wait, you two know each other?”

“Yeah,” They breathe out in unison, still staring at each other.

“Well, this is quite interesting,” Monty joins in as he smirks at Bucky, before walking backwards to the counter near the sink.

Steve takes a glance at Pepper, who’s seated beside him, and finds her smiling at him curiously.

“You never mentioned knowing our Golden Boy here, Buck Buck,” Tony says as he clasps Bucky on the shoulder.

Steve’s neck suddenly feels warm from the embarrassment of hearing that name again. He never really had a problem when his friends called him names like that, so he doesn't know why he suddenly feels embarrassed now. Maybe it’s because of Tony. Or maybe it’s because Bucky is here, literally right in front of him. Steve is betting it’s the latter.

“You never told us,” Pepper agrees, causing Steve to close in on himself a bit.

He’s trying to think of what to say, but Bucky beats him to it.

“It never came up,” Bucky replies, staring at Steve.

“When did you two meet? Why am I not informed?” Tony asks, looking at both of them, back and forth. “Wait, did you two meet at the Gala? _My_ Gala? Did yo—”

“Tony, please,” Pepper says firmly.

“What? I’m just asking,” Tony retorts, defending himself.

Steve clenches his jaw, slightly getting irritated. His mood from earlier is starting to creep back in.

Probably sensing Steve’s slight discomfort, Bucky shrugs off Tony’s hand off his shoulder as gentle as he can, careful not the offend the billionaire, and clears his throat. “You probably have a busy night ahead so, shall we?” Bucky gestures towards the smaller table next to the bigger one.

Pepper nods and slides off her stool smoothly, joining Tony and Bucky. Bucky leads the couple to the table, leaving Steve sitting still on the stool.

Bucky walks around the table and stands directly in front of Tony and Pepper, who have taken their respective seats on the table. The brunet moves his head to look at him directly before raising his eyebrow and giving him a small smile, “You coming or what, Golden Boy?”

Steve groans, his cheeks and neck heating up from hearing that exact name coming from Bucky’s mouth. He glares at Bucky, despite his reddening cheeks, causing the brunet to laugh lightly. Bucky gestures him to come and join them, so Steve takes a deep breath before standing from the stool. He makes his way towards them and sits next to Pepper.

Steve can feel Tony and Pepper’s gaze at him, and it’s making him sweat a little. He knows they’re going to ask questions later, and he knows he won’t be able to answer them without blushing down to his toes.

“Ready?” Bucky asks them, but his eyes are only on Steve. His face softens as Steve gives him a weak smile.

They all nod and Bucky starts talking.

Steve feels like he’s got himself trapped in a trance. The moment Bucky opens his mouth, his passion for food and his job comes out. Steve can’t do anything else, but listen and absorb everything the man is saying. He knows what he’s doing and there's no denying that he loves his job.

Bucky has Monty to assist him with the food, and Steve can clearly see their dynamic in the kitchen. He wonders how Bucky works when he’s actually in a kitchen restaurant.

“So, this is the first course. These are the two options you told me you wanted to try,” Bucky informs them, as Monty places the plates in front of each one of them. “This one is the Goat Cheese Ravioli, and the other one is the Truffle Risotto.”

Steve would’ve been embarrassed for the sound that came out of his mouth if Tony and Pepper didn’t do the same exact thing.

“This one.” Tony points at the ravioli. “I like this one better.”

“But I like the risotto more,” Pepper counters.

“Pep, the ravioli is better. Come on…”

“No. I stick by the risotto.”

“But—”

“Why don’t we ask the third party?” Bucky suggests, winking at Steve.

Steve’s cheeks feels warm all of a sudden. Fuck. When will his body stop betraying him?

“I think…” Steve clears his throat, looking at the choices. “There are vegetarians that would like the ravioli. So maybe just split it? Give the ravioli to the vegetarians, then everyone else can have the risotto.”

Tony and Pepper look at each other as they silently communicate for a moment before nodding.

“Okay, let’s do that.”

“Great!” Bucky claps his hands, stepping next to Steve’s seat and patting him on the shoulder. Bucky crouches down slightly before whispering, “Good choice.”

“Thanks,” Steve replies, almost choking it out.

Same scenario goes for the salads and the main course.

Tony and Pepper argue over the food while Steve serves as the unbiased party and makes almost all the decisions because the couple tend to have different tastes. The only thing they actually agreed on is the wine.

“So what kind of service do you have in mind?” Bucky asks as they finish off the food tasting. “Plate service? French service? Buffet?”

“Plate service is traditional, right?” Tony asks as he chews on his last piece of filet mignon, earning him a slap from Pepper.

“Manners, Tony,” Pepper says before apologizing to Bucky.

“It’s okay,” Bucky assures her. He faces Tony before saying, “Yes, it is. But plate service costs more.”

“Money’s not a problem. You know— Oh! What’s that? Is that a Shrimp Cocktail?” Tony points at Monty in the corner. Monty is holding a shot glass filled with sauce and a shrimp on the side, seemingly startled by Tony’s accusing fingers.

“Yeah,” Bucky replies, gesturing Monty to come over.

Monty makes a beeline for them with the Shrimp Cocktail in hand. Tony doesn’t even let Monty put the glass on the table before grabbing it.

“Oh… This is good,” Tony comments, as he takes a bite and chews on it. “Here, Pep, taste it.” Tony dips the remaining shrimp and feeds it to Pepper. Pepper’s eyes widen, nodding in appreciation. “That’s delicious, right?”

“Yeah,” Pepper agrees, smiling at Bucky. “What did you put in there? It doesn’t taste like the normal shrimp cocktails.”

“It’s for me to know, and for you to _never_ find out,” Bucky says smugly in a low voice, causing Tony to scoff and roll his eyes. Steve’s stomach flutters from hearing the low timbre of the brunet’s voice. Shit. That shouldn’t have sounded as good as it does.

“You and your chef secrets.” Tony waves his hand dismissively. “Do you think we can add this as finger food for each table?”

“Whatever you want, Tony. You’re paying me,” Bucky replies, before grabbing the plates on the table and making his way to the sink.

“Great!” Tony exclaims excitedly before pulling Pepper further into the kitchen. Monty follows them, leaving Steve sitting alone, staring at the remains of the shrimp cocktail.

Steve’s face contorts. _Shrimp._ Fuck. He’s allergic to shrimp. Guess he’ll just have to skip the finger food. It’s not that big of a deal.

“What?” Bucky asks, appearing out of nowhere. Steve’s body stiffens, his fight or flight response suddenly getting triggered. But the moment he realizes it’s Bucky, his muscles starts to loosen up.

He gazes up at Bucky and asks innocently. “Huh?”

“You made a face. Just now,” Bucky points at his face, almost booping his nose with his forefinger. “If you don’t like something, you can tell me. I won’t take it personally.” Bucky gives him an encouraging look.

“Oh.” Steve opens and closes his mouth, before shaking his head frantically. “No, no. Everything’s good. There’s nothing wrong with your food. I just— I’m allergic to shrimp, that’s all.” He can feel the tip of his ears warming up and that’s not a good sign. His body always betrays him. Frankly, he’s had enough.

Bucky makes a humming sound as he puts his left hand on his hip and his right on the table, tapping his fingers on the table. “Maybe we can prepare something different for you?” Bucky suggests.

Steve runs his hand through his hair, shrugging. “It’s okay, you don’t have to do that. It’s just finger food.”

“Come on.” Bucky shoots him an unimpressed look, before looking back at the table on the other side and walking over to grab something that looks like a date, wrapped in some meat. “Here, taste this. It’s a date with goat cheese, wrapped in prosciutto... Mind the toothpick.”

Time slows down for a moment for Steve.

Bucky sits down on the chair next to Steve, holding out the food he prepared right in front of Steve’s mouth with a soft smile tugging on his lips, looking at him expectantly. Steve stares at the date before flicking his eyes up to meet Bucky’s. He has never noticed how blue Bucky’s eyes are until now. They’re literally borderline grey. He gulps as he leans forward and opens his mouth, letting Bucky feed it to him.

The moment the flavor hits his tongue, he can’t help the moan that escapes from his mouth. He closes his eyes as he continues to chew. The saltiness coming from the meat counteracts the sweetness and the chewiness of the dates. The goat cheese gives it a cheesy and tangy taste, perfecting the balance of flavors.

“God, that’s good,” Steve groans, savoring the taste in his mouth.

“Yeah?” Bucky asks softly.

“Yeah.” Steve opens his eyes and his eyes automatically flickers down to Bucky’s lips. “It’s really good.”

They stare at each other for awhile until Bucky’s expression suddenly changes.

“Hey… You wanna know how to make them? I can teach you.” Bucky clears his throat, his cheeks slightly turning a rosy pink color, which kind of throws Steve off. Because everytime they interact, it’s always him who can’t control his blush, not the other way around.

Steve laughs almost embarrassingly and shakes his head, suddenly remembering all of his kitchen disasters. “You wouldn’t want that. I’m a lost cause when it comes to the kitchen.”

Bucky chuckles lightly. “But it’s the easiest thing in the world. I’m sure you can do it.”

“Trust me, I’m the last person you want in your kitchen.”

“I’m sure you’re not that bad,” Bucky insists.

“I almost burned down my kitchen from cooking a pancake.”

“No…” Bucky shakes his head in disbelief.

“Yeah, I did. I don’t really know how to cook. Maybe it’s because I used to boil everything.”

“Boil everything?” Bucky furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

Steve looks down on the floor before smirking at Bucky. “That’s a story for another time.”

Bucky looks at him more confusedly before realization hits. “Did you just—”

“You still owe me that explanation,” Steve mentions as he raises his eyebrow, leaning back on the chair and crossing his arms on his chest.

“After you tell me why you used to boil everything, I’ll tell the story behind ‘Bucky’,” Bucky negotiates.

Steve narrows his eyes before nodding. “Okay, that sounds fair.”

“Deal?” The brunet offers his hand to shake, giving Steve no other option but to accept it.

“Deal.”

Bucky flashes him a bright smile, causing Steve’s throat to feel all dried out.

_Oh. Oh no._

Future Steve will mark this moment as the moment where everything went to shit for him.

Because there is no way he will _not_ fall for this guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading sweeties. let me know what you guys think. xx
> 
> twitter: defrostedbucky  
> tumblr: defrostedbuck


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! i'm so sorry for the late update. everything just a little bumpy at work so i had to push this fic aside. but i'm back now! lmao i mean it's a bit shorter than the last chapter but i hope you like it regardless. 
> 
> as always, thank you to my girl, sam for beta-ing this chapter. i love you bby <3 
> 
> enjoy! xx

“Look who decided to join me after being MIA for two weeks…” Sam calls out.

Sam is sitting on a bench next to a fountain, looking like he already ran two laps around the neighborhood. Steve fights the urge to roll his eyes at his friend, as he approaches him.

Technically, Sam’s not wrong. It’s been two weeks since he last joined his friend for a morning run, and there’s really no one to blame, but himself. Theoretically speaking, his work is partially to blame, but it’s not an excuse he’s willing to give Sam because God knows he’s just going to lecture him about Work/Life Balance, whatever that is.

“I’m sorry,” Steve apologizes, pushing the stray hair in front of his forehead away from his eyes.

Sam stands up from the bench and pinches Steve’s side, causing him to yelp and slap Sam’s hand. “You’re just sorry because you got called out.” Steve puts his hands up, causing Sam to snort. “But seriously, man. What happened?” Sam raises his eyebrow and puts his hands on his hips, squinting his eyes at Steve.

“It doesn't matter.” Steve shrugs dismissively, causing Sam to arch his brow. They stare at each other for a moment, before Steve sighs defeatedly. “Rumlow has been causing some minor problems.”

“Is he still bothering you?” Sam asks, crossing his arms on his chest, as they start to walk towards their usual running path.

Steve shakes his head before responding, “Not like _that_. But he’s always giving me a hard time whenever I see him at the construction site. Nothing new about that.”

“You’re still working with him?” Sam furrowed his eyebrows.

Steve just gives him a resigned sigh and nods, kicking a rock.

“I’m telling you, that man is only giving you hell because you rejected the shit out of him.” Sam makes a face before he starts to jog when they turn to a corner, causing Steve to do the same.

“Don’t remind me.”

Long story short, Steve met Brock two years ago at Tony’s annual Christmas Party. Brock asked him out and he declined. Simple as that.

So saying that Sam’s wrong is, well, not completely true. There’s a part of Steve that says Brock is only giving him a hard time because he’s still bitter about the whole incident and it’s going to go away sooner or later. But there’s also a part of him that says Brock is literally the world’s biggest douchebag and it didn’t matter whether he accepted the offer or not because he’s still going to be an asshole nonetheless.

Either way, Brock is a petty douchebag. It’s not rocket science for Steve to not figure it out.

Steve shakes the thought of Brock out of his head and starts to run fast without warning Sam, earning him a light punch on the arm when Sam catches up to him.

“Warn me if you’re going to run fast, good Lord,” Sam says as he tries to keep up with Steve.

“I’m sorry, old man,” Steve says teasingly before sprinting down the sidewalk.

“WE’RE THE SAME AGE, ASSHOLE!”

“YOUR BODY TELLS ME OTHERWISE!”

“FUCK YOU, ROGERS!”

\---

“How you manage to always run that fast, I’ll never know,” Sam gasps out as he sits on the bench next to Steve, breathing fast and deep.

Steve just shrugs nonchalantly and bites the insides of his cheeks to stop himself from smiling.

“You’re a little shit, you know that?” Sam glares at him, slapping him on the bicep.

Steve slaps him back before putting on a mock scowl and protesting, “Stop hitting me. You know I bruise easily.”

“My bad,” Sam replies, throwing his hands up. “You look like a Greek God, you can’t fault me for forgetting that you have _delicate_ skin.”

Steve furrows his eyebrows and sends Sam a questioning look.

“You know… Greek Gods, muscular, thick skin… that kind of thing. Want me to continue?”

Steve can’t help, but roll his eyes and scoff, dodging away from the subtle compliment.

Sam just chuckles before saying, “Alright, alright… No more talk about Greek Gods. Hey, how’s the apartment, by the way? Heard there was some mishap with the electricity again.”

Now, that’s something he can go on for days. “Are you sure you want me to complain this early in the morning?”

Sam looks at him, challenging. “It’s not like you don’t get heated up by almost everything. But please take it easy with the ranting. You look way different now than you did when I first met you. You should’ve seen yourself, you looked like an angry chihuahua back then. Now, you look, well…”

“You asked about the apartment. I don’t see why we’re suddenly talking about me looking like a chihuahua—”

“— an angry chihuahua.”

“Fuck off,” Steve slaps Sam on the chest with the back of his hand, earning him a tiny yelp from Sam.

“But really, man… how’s the apartment?” Sam asks again concernedly before standing up and holding out his hand. Steve takes it before straightening his posture and running his fingers through his sweaty hair. He should not have done that.

“It’s…” Steve wipes his hands on his shorts. He breathes in deeply, trying not to think about the faulty water lines and the thin walls. He really doesn’t want to rant about it even if his brain is telling him otherwise. “It’s livable. I’m okay. I don’t live next to a night owl, so I consider that a win.”

Sam stifles a laugh, earning him an offended look from Steve.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You do realize you’re _the_ night owl, right?”

“Now, you’re just being rude,” Steve grumbles defensively.

“But, Steve, I’m being serious. You need to get the hell out of that apartment.”

“I’m living there just fine. And it’s cheap.”

Sam clicks his tongue. “You’re the most sought out architect here in Brooklyn. I don’t get why you’re still living in that building. Why don’t you try and search for a place in DUMBO? You can afford that shit.”

Steve sighs before shaking his head lightly. “I’m busy. I don’t have time to search for a new apartment,” Steve reasons out, causing Sam to groan. They cross a street and start making their way towards the street where Steve lives.

“Dude, you’re loaded. You don’t have to settle for something like that. You can easily go and buy a house, or maybe, you know, build your own. You’re a great architect. You do it for your clients. Why not do it for yourself? I mean—”

There it is.

Steve’s sour spot.

“Sam...” Steve cuts in, resigned. He doesn’t want to talk about this right now, if he’s being completely honest with himself.

Sam nods in understanding and clasps his shoulder. “Once you’re ready, I’m happy to help you move out.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Steve replies, looking at the ground for a moment and exhaling deeply to clear his thoughts. He looks up at Sam and gives him a small smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You do that,” Sam says before smirking. “And besides, you don’t even have that much furniture, cause that place is way too small for you to fit anything else. It’ll be a breeze helping you.”

“I need new friends,” Steve mutters before walking away, ignoring Sam’s protest.

\---

Steve clears his throat and six pairs of eyes direct their gazes towards him. He twirls a flash drive between his fingers as he makes his way towards his draftsmen’s area in their office.

“Scott, I need you to change the sewer and water supply layout for this one,” Steve orders, handing him the flash drive.

“Sure thing, boss.” Scott salutes him before he accepts the USB, plugging it in his computer.

“Get it done by tomorrow.” Steve smiles and nods at him, causing Scott to clear his throat and look down at  his hands.

Steve quirks his eyebrow and puts his hands in his pockets before giving his draftsmen and interns orders.

“Carol, I need those interior designs for the theater later this afternoon.”

“Okay, sir. I’m almost finished.”

“Shuri, print the electrical layout I told you to revise yesterday for Coulson’s building and give it to me later. We’re revising it again.”

“I’m on it!”

“Clint, let me know when you finish the perspective for Fury’s building, okay?”

“Aye aye, captain.”

“Michelle, finish all the architectural plans this afternoon. Send it to me by 5pm.”

“Yes, sir!”

The orders keep on flowing and Steve is so lucky that his employees aren’t getting irritated at him by this point.

“Sir?” Pietro cuts in before he can say anything else.

“Yes?”

“What about the Stark project? We saw Rumlow coming out of your office yesterday.” Steve almost rolls his eyes but stops himself. “Are there gonna be any revisions for that again?” Pietro asks, causing the others to look at him expectantly.

“I’ll deal with it. You all have a lot on your plate already,” Steve replies. “Now get back to work. We have deadlines to meet.” Steve orders before walking away, and making his way back to his office.

 _This is going to be a long day_ , Steve thinks to himself. He cracks his head from side to side when he arrives in front of his office.

He’s about to open the door when he hears Wanda calling out to him.

Steve turns around to see Wanda jogging up to him. “What is it?”

“Mr. Stark called,” Wanda says as she stops in front of him.

“What did he say?” Steve asks, feeling the throb at the back of his head come back just by hearing his friend’s name.

It’s been almost a week since he politely declined Tony and Pepper’s offer. But Tony, being Tony, didn’t stop pestering him about it. He resorted to putting his personal phone on airplane mode because the billionaire kept on texting and calling him.

He kinda feels bad for Wanda because she’s the one who’s getting all the calls now. But does he regret putting his phone on airplane mode just to avoid Tony, even just for a little bit? Definitely not.

“He said if you don’t reply to his messages, he’s going to come here.” Wanda looks at him apologetically.

Steve curses mentally, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“I’m sorry. I tried to tell him—”

“It’s okay. I’ll sort it out,” Steve says, before he fishes out his phone from his pocket. He turns off the airplane mode and is immediately bombarded with message alerts. Steve opens the door to his office before asking, “Is there anything else?”

“Yes, actually.” Wanda makes a face before continuing, “Engineer Rumlow called earlier.”

Steve’s hand slips on the door knob.

“What is it this time?”

“He told me he will be coming by tomorrow. Said there has been another change with the power and auxiliary layout.” Steve sighs heavily before rubbing his hands on his face, causing Wanda to rub her hand on Steve’s shoulder sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

He’s literally at his wit’s end. If he sees Brock again, he won’t be held accountable for the things he’s going to do. He’s been playing nice and fair these past few months, but his resolve is getting thinner and thinner the longer he works with the guy.

“It’s okay, Wanda. Thanks for telling me.” Steve smiles at her, patting her hand that’s on his arm.

“Call me if you need anything else,” Wanda replies as she pats Steve’s arm one last time before turning around and heading back to her cubicle.

He steps inside his office and locks the door. He leans back on it before loosening his neck tie.

He’s literally a hair's breadth away from lighting Rumlow’s head on fire.

\---

_“Steven...”_

“No.”

_“Ugh, I didn’t even say anything yet.”_

“I already know what you’re going to say and the answer is no.”

_“You’re gonna say yes sooner or later, Rogers. I’m already speaking it into existence.”_

“Goodbye, Tony.”

_“Ste—”_

\---

Steve is looking at the contents of his fridge and he fights the urge to just throw his fridge away. He can’t postpone going to the grocery store anymore. All he has in his fridge is a piece of apple, a bottle of sparkling water, and his carton of almond milk. There’s literally no food left. He’s been slacking these past few weeks, and his fridge is the most compelling evidence of it.

He’s wondering whether or not his almond milk is already expired when he suddenly remembers the conversation he had with Sam earlier.

He lifts his head up and takes a glance at his studio apartment.

His chest aches a little bit.

As an architect, he’s always been meticulous about the design, the color scheme, and furniture layout of a building or a room. But if a stranger takes one look at his apartment, they’d think it isn’t lived in by an architect.

Everything about his apartment just screams Boring. He didn’t had the time to repaint the walls, leaving it all white and bland and flat. His kitchen looks okay because there’s not much clutter in it. It also only  looks clean because he doesn’t own kitchen utensils like normal people do. He doesn’t cook so why bother buying utensils he won’t ever use? His living area is as mediocre as it gets. He only has a gray couch with black cushions, a coffee table with a pyramid design made from iron with a glass top, and a monochromatic TV cabinet. His bedroom is no exception. White walls, a king size bed with a wooden headboard, a black closet…

It’s uninteresting.

Just like him.

He sighs disappointedly and closes the fridge. He makes a beeline for his bedroom and lies on his bed, not even bothering to close the door. He stares at the ceiling and almost feels sorry for himself.

Sam is right. He could find a better place or build a better house for himself.

He could.

But instead, he settled for… _this._

\---

The universe is trying to conspire against him. Steve, without a doubt, is sure of it.

Even before he stepped a foot out of his apartment, he already knew that this day would be a disaster.

He, for one, woke up on the wrong side of the bed. He wasn’t even on the bed anymore. He was on the damn floor. Surrounded by his laundry. He was meaning to put them in the laundry bin, but he was so tired the whole week that he let them all pile up on the floor. It was gross. Yeah.  Also, he realized he was out of coffee beans to brew, so he had to go to the nearest coffee shop and actually wait in line just to have his usual caffeine intake for the day.

But the misfortune didn’t stop there, oh no, because as he was making his way back to his car from the coffee shop, he realized that he wasn’t wearing his eye contacts. How he managed to walk and drive and communicate with other people without noticing that he wasn’t wearing his contacts was beyond him. Now he had to navigate through his day, squinting through everything, because he’d rather be caught dead than to be seen wearing his glasses in public.

 _This day can’t get any worse_ , Steve thinks as he changes his outfit from work to a more casual one— a white shirt and light-washed jeans.

But no. He’s proven wrong, yet again.

Because as he’s entering the grocery store, he realizes that he can’t hear anything from his right ear. Great. Fucking great. He begrudgingly takes his hearing aid off and shoves it inside his pockets. So, not only is he going to do grocery shopping practically blind, he’s going to do it partially deaf too.

He’s not _technically_ deaf, but he does have a hearing impairment because of the frequent ear infections he had as a kid due to chronic sinusitis and congestion. He only ever uses his hearing aids in some public places where it’s not too loud for his hearing aids to start hurting his ear. He can hear fine in quiet places, but when sounds start to overlap each other, that’s when he whips out his hearing aid.

He strolls around the grocery store with a basket in hand, trying to find food he can stock up with for at least a month. He automatically grabs the items he usually gets. Oatmeals and cereals for his breakfast, healthy snacks he can munch on, that sort of thing. He goes to the fruit section and grabs a bunch of fruit, and easily regrets the fact that he didn’t grab a cart instead of the basket he’s carrying.

Steve passes by the dairy section and power walks to the end of the isle because he can already feel his stomach grumble just from standing there.

He’s nearing the end of the isle when he passes by the ice cream section. He stops, thinks for a moment, and puts his basket down.

He hasn’t eaten ice cream in so long, and he kind of misses it. And after all the stress his work has put him through these past few weeks, he feels like he deserves this.

He opens the freezer and grabs the first one he can get his hands on. He squints to see the ingredients and makes a face. It’s not dairy-free. He drops it quickly and sighs. _Maybe next time_ , Steve thinks. He knows there are plenty of brands that sell dairy-free ice cream, but for the love of God, he can’t remember any of them right now. Also, he’s not going to search through tubs of ice cream just to find something that won’t upset his stomach.

Steve is about to close to the freezer when he feels someone hovering beside him. He figures it’s just a customer wanting to grab some ice cream, and he’s in the way. He closes the freezer before grabbing his basket and apologizing to the person next to him, not daring to look. He’s about to turn and walk the other way when a hand suddenly grabs his forearm. His body stiffens, ready to fight, but when he turns around with a scowl on his face, he finds himself almost dropping his basket to the floor.

“Oh.”

“I knew that was you.”

Bucky.

He knows that angular facial structure from anywhere.

“Sorry,” Steve apologizes before turning his good ear towards Bucky’s direction.

“I’ve been calling you for the past minute and I thought I was wrong for a moment there.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you,” Steve breathes out, still vaguely making out Bucky’s appearance. It’s been almost a week since he saw him, but boy, even if he can’t see properly, Bucky still looks stunning as hell. He’s just wearing a hoodie and some dark pants, his hair tied up in a messy half bun. How is that fair? “How have you been?”

“I’m doing good. Came here to buy some eggs and a bunch of ramen noodles.” He waves his basket, causing Steve to chuckle lightly.

“Ramen noodles?” Steve quirks his eyebrow.

“Don’t judge me,” Bucky says flatly.

“But you’re a chef…” Steve tries to stifle a laugh. “I thought chefs eat great food all the time.”

“Who says ramen noodles aren’t great?”

“But that’s store-bought.” Steve says slowly, and he can see Bucky narrowing his eyes at him. Steve just lets out a breathy laugh before putting his free hand in surrender. “Okay, okay…”

“What about you? Are you finished with that?” Bucky points at his basket. “I can get out of your hair if you want.”

“It’s okay,” Steve assures. “I’m already done anyway. There’s not much I can buy here that doesn’t require cooking.”

“You really don’t know how to cook, huh?” Bucky smirks at him, causing his neck to heat up.

“Don’t judge me.”  Steve throws back, earning him an open laugh from the brunet.

“My offer still stands, you know,” Bucky says as they walk together towards the check out.

“Huh?”

“I can teach you how to cook.”

“I don't think— That doesn't sound like a good idea.” Steve says in a self-deprecating tone.

“I’ll go easy on you,” Bucky teases before flashing him a smirk. “I’ll teach you three easy recipes. Because that—” Bucky points at his basket. “—isn’t real food.”

Steve gives him a mock-offended look. “Well, I’m sorry, this doesn’t look like real food to you, Mr. Ramen Noodles.”

“Don’t shame my ramen, Steve. They didn’t do anything to you.”

“Shut up.” Steve rolls his eyes at the brunet.

“So, are you up for it?” Bucky stares at him expectantly.

“I—” Steve looks down at his groceries before smiling weakly at Bucky. “Sure. Why not? It doesn’t hurt to learn how to make something that doesn't taste burnt.”

“I thought you were joking about that.” Bucky chuckles lightly. “When are you free?”

“Maybe this weekend?” Steve replies, his chest feeling heavy.

“Okay. Just come by whenever you want. I’m always at my house anyway. You remember my house, right?” The brunet throws him a small smile.

Steve just nods, grinding his teeth. Why his chest feels warm and heavy all of sudden, is something he’s not ready to dive into yet. So he just smiles in return, albeit a bit tightly.

Bucky goes first at the check out and he grabs Steve’s basket and puts it next to his.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Steve asks, as the cashier starts punching in the items.

“I’m paying,” Bucky says in a matter of fact tone.

“But—” Steve tries to protest but Bucky just shakes his head at him.

“It’s not a big deal.” The brunet shrugs before handing the cashier his card, leaving no room for Steve to protest.

\---

“You didn’t have to do that,” Steve mutters as they make their way outside the store and to the parking lot, as he carries both of their bags. He insisted on carrying Bucky’s groceries because it’s the least he could do for the guy.

“I told you, it’s not a big deal.” Bucky says.

“It’s a big deal to me.” Steve takes a deep breath. He looks at Bucky and finds the brunet already looking at him.

“Was I out of line?” Bucky asks in a serious tone.

Steve is taken aback by the question, merely because if he say something along those lines, people just shrug and tell him that he’s overreacting. That it’s _really no big deal._

“I—” Steve gulps. “No. No, you weren't. It’s just— I’m not used to people doing things for me.”

Bucky stops in his tracks, causing Steve to do the same. He can’t see it properly, but he knows Bucky is staring at him. His face suddenly feels hot from the attention. Damn it. Why can’t his body give him a break?

“I figured,” Bucky says gently before smirking. “You look like the stubborn kind.”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “How can you say that? You don’t even know me.”

“Yeah, I don’t,” Bucky says. “But I’d like to,” He admits, his voice soft and certain.

Steve really doesn’t know how to respond to something like that, so he just does what he usually do when words fail him. He rolls his eyes.

“One of these days, your eyes are gonna permanently stay at the back of your head from rolling them too much.”

“Fuck you,” Steve retorts.

“Buy me dinner first, then maybe we can negotiate,” Bucky says smoothly before winking at Steve.

“Jerk,” Steve mutters as he tries to hide the fact that he’s blushing way harder than necessary.  Bucky is just standing there beside him, trying to control his composure, and he’s doing it quite successfully. Steve groans before asking, “Where’s your damn car, Barnes?”

Bucky shakes his head lightly and grabs his bag of groceries from Steve. So, Steve hands him the bag as carefully as possible. “I walked here.”

“What?”

“I walked here. My house is just a few blocks away.” Bucky says as he balances the grocery bag on his right hip.

“I’ll drive you,” Steve says.

“No, it’s fine.” Bucky shakes his head.

“But—”

“Really, it’s fine. Go ahead, I’ll walk you to your car,” Bucky says, shoving Steve playfully.

Steve gives in and lets Bucky walk him to his car, albeit begrudgingly. Steve stops in front of his car and unlocks it with his remote control keys. Bucky opens the door for him, causing Steve’s neck and cheeks to redden. No one has ever opened a door for him before, so this… This is new. And he doesn’t know how to feel about it.

“Thanks,” Steve mutters in gratitude before leaning down and putting the bag next to the driver’s seat. He steps back and straightens his posture, facing Bucky again.

“Drive safely,” Bucky says firmly, his voice suddenly serious and hard.

Steve gulps before smiling tightly. “I will.”

“Good.” Bucky nods.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?” He asks. “You paid for my groceries. It’s the least I can do.”

The brunet looks at him for a moment before pulling out his phone from his pocket.

Steve stares down at the phone, his heart beating a bit faster than normal. He takes a glance at Bucky and finds him looking at him expectantly.

“Give me your number and I’ll call it even.” Bucky unlocks his phone and hands it to Steve.

Steve looks at Bucky one last time before punching his number in. He saves his number and gives the phone back to the brunet. Bucky stares at his phone, a small smile forming on his lips. Steve’s phone suddenly starts ringing inside his pocket, causing him to pull it out. He takes a glance at the phone and realizes Bucky is the one who’s calling him.

“That’s my number. Hit me up anytime.” Bucky says before taking a step back. “I’ll see you this weekend?” Bucky tilts his head, looking at him with an expectant look on face.

“Yeah. See you this weekend.” Steve’s throat feels like it’s closing up and he doesn’t even know why.

“Goodbye, Steve…” Bucky says gently, his lips turned up into small smile.

“Bye, Bucky,” Steve breathes out before giving Bucky a small wave. Like a damn kid. What is he thinking?

“Bye.” Bucky waves back, probably humoring him, before walking away.

Steve waits until Bucky turns the corner before he hastily gets in his car and closes the door, his hands clutching on his phone. He takes a deep breath, leaning back on his seat.

He’s going to see Bucky this weekend.

And he has his number in his phone.

He’s about to start his car when his phone rings, alerting him that he has a new message. It’s from Bucky’s number. He pulls out his glasses from his laptop bag and puts them on. He saves Bucky’s number first before opening the message.

**_Your shirt is inside out, by the way._ **

Steve looks down at his shirt and sure enough, the seams of his shirt are on full display.

**_I hate you._ **

**_No, you don’t._ **

Steve throws his head back on his seat and starts laughing.

This day didn’t turn out to be as much of a disaster as he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! i hope you enjoy this chapter. let me know what you guys think. ily <3 xx


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! hello! im back! lol anyway thanks for sticking by this fic. we've come this far lmao hope you guys like this chapter ily guys xx
> 
> p.s.  
> thanks to my home girl sam for beta-ing this chapter ily bby xx

Steve is stepping out of his office to go to the breakroom when he hears a crash coming from Scott’s table.

“He needs some milk!” Michelle and Shuri both shout in unison before bursting out in laughter. Steve furrows his eyebrows in confusion and looks around the office, trying to find what the two girls are laughing about, only to find Scott standing up from the ground with a scowl on his face.

Scott groans. “Stop laughing at me. I don’t even know what you teenagers are talking about,” Scott mutters, as he rubs his butt. Steve can see how bloodshot his eyes are.

“First of all, we’re not teenagers,” Shuri reminds Scott, before looking at Michelle, stifling her laughter. “Second of all, it’s not our fault you fell off your chair.” Michelle cracks up, causing Shuri and the rest to do the same.

“That’s what you get for drinking on a weekday. You deserve that,” Clint comments. Scott grabs a paper from his desk and crumples it up into a ball before hitting Clint with it successfully. Strangely enough.

“That’s harsh, man.” Pietro, sitting next to him, slaps his arm before throwing Scott a sympathetic look.

“Well, he’s not wrong,” Carol joins in, Clint giving her a high five when she passes by.

“I told you to take the day off. Steve would understand,” Wanda says as she closes her log book, raising an eyebrow at Scott.

“Stop. My head hurts. I hate all of you.” Scott leans back on his chair, rubbing his temples.

Steve watches his employees from the distance, his lips turned up into a small smile. It’s always entertaining to watch them interact whenever they’re taking a break because it shows how close they are as a unit.

Clint and Scott were his first draftsmen. They were all the same age, so Steve didn’t really feel like they were his employees. Clint and Scott were the ones who really saw Steve struggle as a self-employed architect. Steve had worked non-stop for over a year, with only them as his draftsmen. They saw him and probably thought that it wasn’t healthy anymore, so they’d suggested to get two more draftsmen, so Steve could breathe a little bit. Then Pietro and Carol came into the picture, and they’d easily wormed their way through their small pack. A few months after Pietro and Carol got employed, he started looking for an assistant to manage the more ‘paperwork’ side of the business. One afternoon, Pietro came into his office and referred his sister to him, and that was how he met Wanda. Michelle and Shuri were the newest additions to their small firm. They only just graduated last year from two different universities, and Steve knew that adding them to his small firm would brighten up the office and make it feel more like a home, with all the jokes and pranks they always pull on Scott. Steve doesn’t really know why they only ever tease and prank him, but it’s fun to watch, so Steve just lets it happen. Every single time.

The dynamic in their office is something he’ll never trade in for the world. All of them are professionals, but they also know how and when to have a good time. Twice a month, they would go out and have drinks at Bifrost, a bar owned by Thor, one of the few friends Steve actually has, and see how long it will take to actually get Wanda drunk. It never happens though because Wanda would look at them dead in the eyes, take two shots of one of the strongest drinks Thor can offer and say, “I’m Russian. I can drink all of you under the table.” with Pietro snickering beside her. They never underestimated Wanda after that.

Needless to say, he’s happy with how his small firm turned out. This is his team, his second family, and there’s nothing more he can ask for.

“Are we still going to Bifrost tonight?” Pietro asks before looking at Scott who’s groaning in his seat. “No, not you.”

“Wait, it’s Friday already?” Carol looks at her desk calendar before leaning back on her chair. “Huh. Well, I’m down for a drink tonight. This week has been a pain in my— Oh.”

Everyone’s eyes, with the exception of Scott’s, zeroes in on him, looking like deers caught in the headlights.

Steve chuckles lightly before making his way towards them. “Are you okay, Scott?” He asks, stopping beside Wanda’s cubicle, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Remind me to never drink again,” Scott groans as he rubs his face with his hands, still slouched back on his chair. Steve knows a hangover headache when he sees one.

“You’ll be fine,” Steve assures him, earning him a grunt from the man.

“Are you heading out already?” Wanda asks, looking up at Steve.

Steve shakes his head. “Just thought I needed a break. I was going to get some coffee.” Steve looks at his employees. “Looks like everyone here needs a break as well.”

“It has been a busy week,” Wanda comments, earning her a few sympathizing nods.

Steve looks around the office, deciding to treat his employees a bit. “Order three boxes of pizza,” Steve orders Wanda.

And sure enough, all of his draftsmen shouts an enthusiastic “YES!” Even Scott manages to give a tiny “Yay!” while massaging his temples.

Steve takes a seat on one of the spare chairs and hangs out with everyone while they wait for the pizza. Everyone continues to tease Scott for drinking on a weekday, causing the man to grunt and smack his head on his table. The pizza arrives just in time and everyone digs in as they do a recap of the last two weeks, and how they haven’t done anything else besides work.

Pietro twirls his chair to face Steve as he chews on his slice of pizza before asking, “Sir, you up for drinks tonight?”

Steve is about to say yes when he remembers his and Bucky’s arrangement tomorrow.

“I can’t. Maybe next time,” Steve replies, shrugging before biting into his pizza.

“Why? You got a date or something?” Clint says offhandedly, causing Steve to choke on his pizza a little bit. Clint raises his eyebrows, surprise painted on his face. “So, you do have a date.”

“I don’t,” Steve denies, clearing his throat. “It’s not a date. I just have somewhere to be in the morning.”

“So, there is a _someone_. Where are you going?” Michelle asks curiously, dumping her pizza crust on the box. Shuri’s eyes widen before slapping Michelle on the arm, causing her to hiss at Shuri. “What?! Oh… Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’m just gonna stay here in my lane.”

“Well, I’m not gonna stay in my lane and ask,” Carol says, before looking at Steve. “So, boss… Where are you going?” Carol repeats Michelle’s question, raising her eyebrow at him.

Steve gulps. “I’m going to the 107th test kitchen tomorrow before lunch.”

“Oooh… Why?” Carol and the rest tilt their heads in curiosity, causing Steve to divert his eyes for a moment. He can’t believe he forgot how nosy his employees are with his personal life. Which is understandable because he rarely shares anything with them about his life outside of work anyway. But what else is he supposed to share? It’s not like he ever goes out of his house to do anything interesting.

“I’m meeting my friend there.” Steve cringes inwardly at the word ‘friend’. He doesn’t really know if he and Bucky are friends. Acquaintances, maybe. But friends? He doesn’t know. But he does want to be friends with the chef, that's for sure.

“Who?” Scott asks as he chews on his pizza, looking a little bit better than he did when Steve first saw him. “Wait, test kitchen? Not the restaurant?”

“I— Yeah.” That raises all of his employees eyebrows.

“Wait, isn’t that like a well-known restaurant in DUMBO?” Clint cuts in.

Steve doesn’t know. The last time he’s set his foot in DUMBO was when he did a restoration project for an old antique shop a few years ago.

“My friend, Luis raves about that restaurant,” Scott says.

“My brother and I went there for my birthday this year. Their food and desserts are amazing. And the interior design is definitely magazine-worthy. They actually made it into one of the Architectural Digest issues last year.” Shuri contributes.

“Oh yeah. I remember that issue.” Carol nods.

“I need to—” Steve excuses himself before making a beeline for his office.

He closes the door carelessly and makes his way to his table, opening his laptop and searching the internet about the 107th.

Fuck.

It really is a well-known restaurant in DUMBO, with a 5-star rating. He really needs to get out more.

He leans back on his chair and remembers what Bucky said to him that night at the gala.

_“It’s just a small restaurant in Brooklyn...”_

“Small restaurant, my ass,” Steve mutters to himself as he shakes his head in disbelief before chuckling lightly.

\---

Steve wakes up the next day, his head feeling lighter than the last few weeks. He sits up and grabs his glasses from his bedside table. He puts them on and lets his eyes adjust before grabbing his phone. He unlocks it and sees a message from Bucky. His heart skips a beat. Pathetic. That’s what he is. It’s not like they haven’t texted each other the past two days. He shakes his head, berating himself for acting this way, before opening the message.

**_Hey, Golden Boy. You’re not allergic to peanuts, are you?_ **

**_Good morning, by the way :)_ **

Steve’s lips automatically turn up into a smile.

**_Good morning, Bucky. As for your question, I’m not. Why?_ **

**_Oh good. I made something and I want a second opinion._ **

**_Okay, sure. But why me? Don’t you have your people there with you?_ **

**_I kicked everyone out for today so we can have the kitchen all to ourselves._ **

Steve bites his bottom lip, his stomach tied into knots with the idea of spending the whole day with Bucky alone, before replying.

**_You didn’t have to do that._ **

_**You want them to watch our cooking lesson?** _

Steve can hear the smugness in the message, causing him to uncontrollably roll his eyes.

**_Shut up._ **

**_That’s what I thought.  Anyway, I’m gonna stop bothering you. I’ll see you later, Golden Boy._ **

Steve tries not to blush from the nickname.

**_See you later._ **

\---

_11:24am_

Steve looks up from his wristwatch and stares at the front door of the 107th test kitchen, a.k.a. Bucky’s house, a.k.a. the place where he’s going to die of embarrassment. His palms are sweating like crazy and his heart feels like it’s going to jump out of his throat any time soon. He looks back to his car, having the urge to back out and drive back home.

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath before ringing the doorbell.

There’s cluttering coming from inside the house before he hears footsteps coming towards the door.

Steve holds his breath.

The door opens, revealing Bucky, wearing black jeans and a grey shirt. He looks way too good considering he’s just wearing casual clothes.

“Hello,” Bucky greets, smiling warmly at him.

“Hi,” Steve replies after clearing his throat.

Bucky looks him up and down, before looking back at his face, his eyes unreadable. The man clenches his jaw, his smile faltering.

“Come in,” Bucky holds the door open for him, clearing his throat discreetly.

Steve hides his confusion from the sudden change of demeanor. He looks down on himself and wonders what could possibly have sparked this change of behaviour. Is his choice of clothing that repulsing? He’s just wearing dark blue jeans and a white shirt under his blue bomber jacket. It’s not that bad, right?

Steve shakes his head lightly and looks around the room. It still looks beautiful. Steve can’t help, but admire the interior of the place again. Steve takes off his jacket, looking and admiring the details of the wooden trusses, just like he did the last time he was here.

“Here. Let me take your jacket,” Bucky says, as he carefully takes the jacket off of Steve’s hand. He walks past Steve and hangs it on the rack down the hallway. Bucky turns around and gives him a brief smile before raising his eyebrow. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I can be.” Steve shrugs.

Bucky chuckles lightly before making his way back to Steve. “Come on. It’s going to be easy.” The brunet leads them to the kitchen, Steve following two steps behind.

They make their way around the kitchen island and Steve gulps.

“I know this is a little intimidating, but trust me, this is the easiest thing in the world,” Bucky says, giving Steve a warm smile.

“For you, maybe,” Steve replies, gnawing at his bottom lip. A variety of ingredients are laid down on the counter, making Steve almost panic a little. He’s completely out of his depth.

“Okay, are you really ready? Or do you want to go to the living room first, maybe watch something on Netflix and—”

“No, no… I— I’m ready.” Steve takes a deep breath and nods at Bucky.  

“We’re not going to war, Steve. Relax.” Bucky clasps and squeezes his shoulders from behind, shaking him slightly. Steve gulps, trying to stop himself from recoiling from the touch. Nobody has touched him like this in a very short while. “Come on, let’s drink something first before we start. What do you want?” Bucky motions Steve to seat on the stool near the kitchen island.

“Water is fine,” Steve replies, before smiling tightly, sitting on the stool.

Bucky walks towards his fridge and grabs a pitcher of water before closing it and making his way back to Steve. He places the pitcher down on the island before pulling out two glasses from the cupboard behind him. He fills the glasses with water and hands one to Steve.

“Thanks,” Steve says before taking a sip and placing the glass back down on the island.

“So, what are you going to teach me today?”

“The classic Chicken and Vegetables Stir Fry,” Bucky replies, gesturing towards the ingredients. “You do know the basics, right?”

Steve furrows his eyebrows. “Basics?”

“Yeah. The basics. Cutting up ingredients, all that jazz.”

“Oh… Yes?”

“Is that an answer or a question?” Bucky smirks at him, causing Steve’s cheeks to heat up. Bucky laughs lightly before motioning him to stand up. “Come here.”

Steve looks at Bucky’s hand before looking at his face. Steve stands up and makes his way towards Bucky.  

“Go wash your hands,” Bucky instructs, his voice solid.

Steve does as he’s told. Bucky is standing next to him with a washcloth in hand, waiting for him. The brunet hands him the washcloth after he’s done washing his hands and leads them back to the counter.

Bucky starts asking him about what he actually knows when it comes to the kitchen and Steve admits he doesn’t know anything besides maybe boiling meat and steaming vegetables.

“You know how to chop, right?” Bucky asks him, raising his eyebrow.

“Of course,” Steve says in a mock offended tone.

“Show me.”

“What?” Steve’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Show me,” Bucky repeats, looking at Steve expectantly, pointing at the chopping board.

Steve blinks.

“Okay?” Steve looks at Bucky suspiciously before grabbing a knife. “What should I chop first?”

“Start with the onion. Dice it,” Bucky orders, a small smile tugging on his lips.

Steve narrows his eyes a bit at the brunet before grabbing the onion and removing the skin. As he’s about to chop off the root of the onion, Bucky suddenly stops him, touching his hand that’s holding the knife.

“Don’t.”

Steve immediately stiffens. “Okay.”

“Hey, relax,” Bucky says softly as he squeezes Steve’s hand, causing Steve to blush. “Just leave the root. If you take that off, the onion will start to bleed and crying is not a part of our lesson today.”

Bucky takes his hand off and lets Steve do his thing. He’s starting to cut the onion but Bucky chuckles softly next to him, causing him to huff indignantly.

“Here, let me show you.” Bucky carefully takes the knife from Steve and shows him how to properly dice the onion.

Steve watches as Bucky tells him to use his hand like a claw so he doesn’t accidentally cut himself.

“Use your knuckles as a guideline,” Bucky says as Steve watches beside him. “Okay. All done. You already know what to do?” Steve nods in response. Bucky smiles at him before patting his shoulder. “I’ll let you do everything now, okay?” He says gentle and warm, causing Steve to clench his jaw.

“Wait, you’re not going to help me?” Steve asks, his eyes widening.

“I’m here. I’ll help you. But you have to do everything by yourself. I wouldn’t be there to help you prepare everything the next time you cook, would I?”

Steve looks at his hands, embarrassed. “Yeah. Okay.”

Bucky elbows him. “I’ll guide you through everything, okay?” Steve nods again, feeling more at ease. Bucky smirks at him before continuing, “Now, do what I just showed you with the other half.”

Steve inhales deeply before taking the knife from Bucky and doing exactly what Bucky taught him, albeit a bit slower.

“That’s good. Keep going,” Bucky encourages him, causing his neck to heat up.

Steve lets out a deep breath after he finishes dicing the onions.

“Okay, good. That’s done,” Bucky smiles at him. “Let’s move on to the next one.”

They only just finished dicing the onions and he can already feel his back sweating. How will he ever survive the whole lesson having some kind of mental breakdown?

As Bucky promised, he lets Steve do all the work. He guides Steve through the prepping process of all the vegetables and aromatics, but lets Steve do all the dirty work.

“You should always prep everything before you cook,” Bucky says as Steve chops the zucchinis. “You don’t want to be cooking and then cutting and then cooking all at the same time. It’s a big mess. I did that once when I was younger and I almost burned down my mother’s kitchen.”

Steve chuckles as he puts the zucchinis on the bowl. “What did she do?” Steve asks, taking a glance at Bucky.

Bucky’s eyes soften, a nostalgic smile on his lips, before looking at Steve. “She taught me how to cook.”

“You two are close?” Steve asks, feeling a sudden lump on his throat.

“Very. She taught me almost everything I know. Culinary school was no match for her,” Bucky replies proudly. Steve nods, blinking fast.

“What about your mother?”

Steve breathes out. His ma’s face suddenly flashes on his mind, causing him to smile sadly.

Steve tells him about his mother. Tells him how she raised him all on her own, and how she gave him everything he could ever need. He tells Bucky how she would always wait for him at their front door with a first aid kit, just in case he got into a fight again.

“You always get into fights?” Bucky asks, quirking his eyebrow.

“All the time. My friend Sam used to tell me I looked like an angry chihuahua because I was so small and angry all the time.”

“You were small?” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed, curious.

“Oh yeah. I was the smallest guy in my class. I was 5’4” and 95 lbs.,” Steve replies. “Everyone from my high school didn’t recognize me when we had our reunion last year.”

“I don’t believe that for a second, but you happen to look like a person who doesn’t lie.”

Steve laughs unexpectedly, throwing his head back. “Oh no.” Steve shakes his head. Bucky narrows his eyes at him slightly, causing him to roll his eyes in a light manner. “I lie. Well, most of the time, anyway. Especially when I want to get out of a situation. But I digress. We were talking about my ma.”

“Well, tell me more about her,” Bucky says.

Steve stares at him for a moment, trying to see if Bucky actually means it. He does. Steve can see it in his eyes. His eyes are so blue and so sincere. He makes it a little hard for Steve to breathe.

So Steve tells Bucky more about Sarah and the ways she impacted Steve’s life up until this day.

“She sounds amazing,” Bucky says, heartfelt, after Steve finishes his little ode to his ma.

“She was.” Steve corrects as he continues to chop the spinach, his voice rough. He clears his throat discreetly, trying to stop himself from being emotional.

“Oh.” Bucky’s face changes. “I’m sorry, Steve. I—”

“It’s okay.” He stops chopping the spinach and takes a deep breath. Steve shakes his head lightly before giving Bucky a weak smile.

“I’m still sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up.” Bucky places his hand on his back, and Steve can’t help but lean back to it, his body seeking for comfort.

Steve gives him a small smile before chopping up the spinach again. “So what were you saying again?” He says, giving Bucky a sideway glance as he continues to chop.

Bucky looks at him for a moment, studying him, before nodding. Steve wants to drop the subject and Bucky recognizes it.

Bucky waits for Steve to finish with the vegetables before instructing him to open the stove and heat up the pan. He instructs Steve on how to fry the chicken perfectly and tells him to not throw away the oil from the pan.

“We’re going to use that oil for the vegetables later so we don’t waste the flavor of the chicken,” Bucky supplies before telling Steve to get the aromatics ready.

Bucky tells Steve exactly what to do and Steve complies. Normally, Steve doesn't like it when people tell him what to do, but with Bucky, it’s just different. Granted the fact that he’s teaching him how to cook and he naturally has to listen to everything Bucky is saying. But the weight of his tone and the way he words it puts Steve in a trance. Bucky can literally tell Steve anything and Steve will do it, in a heartbeat.

And without Steve even realizing it, the dish is done.

“Great job, Steve. You did so good,” Bucky praises him, clasping his shoulders again with his hands. Bucky is a very tactile person, Steve notices. But he's not complaining. “This looks pretty good for a starter.”

Steve’s body suddenly feels like it's on fire.

He doesn't know why he’s reacting like this, but Bucky’s praises are making him... _feel_ some type of way. He’s never been good with compliments and praises, but when Bucky does it, it gives him some sort of accomplishment and it's confusing him. He just cooked a meal, that’s all. It’s not supposed to be a big deal, but it is, in some way. Whatever that is, Steve is not ready to unravel it yet.

Steve helps Bucky set up the table before sitting side by side. They eat in comfortable silence, before Bucky breaks it.

“So I was thinking…” Bucky starts as they eat the chicken and vegetables stir fry Steve has successfully made. Steve tilts his head sideways, looking at Bucky. “I promised you three recipes, right?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, taking a bite of the chicken, staring at it after. He’s still finding it hard to believe that he made this. Maybe it’s just a fluke, since Bucky was there, guiding him through everything. Once he’s in his own kitchen, it’s going to be a disaster once again.

“We should do it by sessions. It’ll be easier for you. Maybe you can try and recreate the stir fry a few times. Get you comfortable with cooking. I don’t want to dump it all on you in one day. It will probably confuse you.” Bucky shrugs, twirling his fork around the bowl.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Steve replies. “So are we going to do it every weekend?”

“Whatever works with your schedule. But weekends sounds like the best option for you. Maybe we can do the next session at your house, so you’re more comfortable with your surroundings.”

Steve’s eyes widen slightly.

“I don’t know. There’s really nothing much we can do at my kitchen,” Steve tries to reason out. His kitchen doesn't even have the right equipments for cooking. He doesn't know how that will work out for him, but he’ll figure it out. Hopefully.

“But that’s where you’ll cook most of the times.”

“I just— all I have are my coffee maker and a frying pan, and that’s it. I don’t even own a chopping board, I think…”

“Are you serious?”

Steve bites his bottom lip before nodding. He catches Bucky's eyes darting to his lips before looking back up.

“Are you free next week?” Bucky asks firmly.

Steve furrows his eyebrows, thinking of his schedule. “Probably.”

“When?”

“Thursday. I don’t have an appointment that day. I can clock out early.”

“Good,” Bucky says before putting his fork down. “I’ll pick you up Tuesday afternoon at your house.”

“What? Why?” Steve furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

“I’m going to inspect your kitchen, then we’re going to Target and buy you all the things you need for your kitchen.”

“No—” Steve tries to protest but Bucky shakes his head at him.

“How will you practice if you don't have anything to practice with?” Bucky raises his eyebrow, challenging Steve.

Steve looks down, staring at his bowl. “I— No, it’s okay. I can do it by myself. You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to,” Bucky says gently, his face unreadable, yet again.

Steve is an empathic person. He reads people easily, knows how they’re feeling at the moment, but with Bucky… Steve has nothing. It’s like Bucky has this wall, and Steve doesn’t know how to get through it without forming some sort of attachment.

“Okay,” Steve breathes out, giving Bucky a weak smile.

“Yeah?” Bucky stares at him, his eyes glinting.

“Yeah.”

Bucky’s eyes dart towards his lips again, causing Steve to do the same. Steve notices a smudge near Bucky’s lips, of what looks like the sauce from the stir fry.

“You got some—” Steve points at Bucky’s lower face, causing Bucky to shakes his head lightly. He realizes that they’re sitting closer than they did when they started eating.

“Where?” Bucky asks before sticking out his tongue to try and get it.

_Good Lord._

“There— You missed it.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow, as he tries to get the smudge from the corner of his lips.

Steve’s hand twitches.

“Here, let me,” Steve brings up his hand and cleans up the corner of Bucky’s lips with his thumb, literally cradling Bucky’s face with his hand. He can hear the blood rushing to his ears and his heart is beating way too fast than usual. What in the world is he doing?

“James! James! I need you to sign these— Oh.”

Steve almost falls off his chair from pulling himself away from Bucky. His eyes land on Natasha, who is standing behind the kitchen island with a folder in her hand, looking at them with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth. She looks as intimidatingly beautiful as the night he’d met her. Jesus.

“Did I interrupt something?” Natasha asks, recovering from the shock, as she makes her way to the dining table, a small smirk playing on her lips.

“Natasha…” Bucky says in a warning tone.

“Relax. Jesus.” Natasha rolls her eyes before dumping the folder and a pen in front of Bucky. “I just need you to sign these papers and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Bucky snarls at Natasha before opening the folder and reading the contents. Bucky clenches his jaw before looking up at Natasha. “Is he bothering you and Matt again?”

“His assistant came in earlier this morning. So I called Murdock.”

“He’s not going to stop, is he?”

Natasha purses her lips into a thin line. “If you sign these papers, he will. Pierce is very adamant on buying a franchise.”

“My restaurant is not up for franchising,” Bucky hisses.

“I know. That’s why I need you to sign these. Murdock will take care of everything else.”

Steve tries to not breathe too loudly, afraid that they’ll remember he’s actually in the room too.

Bucky takes the pen and grips it, before signing the papers, with his jaw clenched hard. Steve takes a glance towards Natasha and finds the woman already looking at him with a curious look on her face.

As Bucky signs the papers, Natasha makes her way in front of Steve and leans on the table. She grabs his fork, takes a piece of chicken from the bowl, and eats it.

“Hey,” Natasha greets, her voice low but warm.

“Hey,” Steve breathes out.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Natasha smirks at him, causing him to blush.

“Bucky’s giving me lessons,” Steve blurts out, as he tries not to close in on himself from Natasha’s gaze.

“Oh,” Natasha lifts her eyebrow, looking at Bucky for a second before looking back at Steve with a mischievous grin. “Is that what they call it nowadays?”

“Natasha, if you don’t shut up,” Bucky warns him as he continues to sign the papers.

“Whatever,” Natasha rolls her eyes at Bucky. “Anyway, do you have any plans for Halloween?” Natasha asks Steve.

“Oh, uh…” Right. Halloween is only three weeks away. Steve looks at Bucky and Natasha back and forth before replying. “Not really.”

“Good.” Natasha smiles, straightening her posture the same time Bucky closes the folder. “You should come to my Halloween party.”

“What?” Steve croaks out, surprised by the invitation.

”It’s nothing fancy. Just us and the boys at the 107th. You can bring your friends if you like,” Natasha says, looking at him expectantly.

Halloween isn’t really Steve’s favorite holiday. “I’ll think about it,” Steve replies, giving Natasha a tight smile.

Natasha seems to be content with his answer so she gives him a soft smile, something he’s never seen on her face before.

“That’s good. I’ll see you around, Steve.” Natasha grabs the folder. “And you.” She points at Bucky. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

Natasha blows them a kiss before walking away.

“Sorry about her,” Bucky says.  

“I like her,” Steve replies, watching Natasha walk away from them.

“Oh.” Bucky raises his eyebrows. “You like her?”

“I mean, she’s intimidating. But I like her.” Steve looks at Bucky and finds the brunet staring at him with that unreadable expression on his face again. Frankly, Steve is getting irritated because he can’t seem to have a feel of what the other is thinking.

“You _like_ her,” Bucky breathes out, his shoulder sagging.

Oh.

Oh no.

“Not like that!” Steve almost exclaims, his hands flailing in front of him. “She’s beautiful but I don’t like her _like_ that.”

“Ah…” Bucky’s posture changes. “Okay. That’s good.”

Steve gulps, his throat feeling closed up. “What?”

Bucky stares at him before shaking his head. “Nothing.”

They sit there in silence for a moment before Steve remembers something.

“Didn’t you say you needed my second opinion on something?” Steve asks.

“What?”

“Earlier, you texted me something about peanuts.”

Bucky perks up. “Do you like cookie dough?” Bucky asks, and Steve nods. “Peanut butter?” Steve shrugs but nods nonetheless. “Brownies?”

Steve straightens his posture. He loves brownies. It’s one of the few things his ma used to bake for him when he was younger. “Yeah. I do.”

“Then you’re going to love this,” Bucky says before making his way towards the fridge.

“Yeah, I think I will…” Steve whispers longingly as he stares at Bucky’s back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading. hope you guys enjoyed it <3 let me know what you think xx
> 
> twitter: defrostedbucky  
> tumblr: defrostedbuck


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! you're still reading this? i lovE YOU! lmao honestly if you're still reading this, thank you so much. anyway, i hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> this one is for my main girls, dom and sam. i love you guys so much <3 xx

It’s Tuesday afternoon and Steve meets up with Sam at their go-to coffee shop in Green Point. Steve is already in the area because of a new project with his newest client, and Sam works at the hospital in Green Point for Physical Therapy, so they might as well have some afternoon coffee and catch up with each other.

“How’s work? Any patient drama you wanna share with me?” Steve asks as they walk towards the empty table near the front window, taking their respective drinks with them.

Sam laughs lightly before replying, “Actually, yes. I do. Who else am I gonna vent my frustrations to?”

Steve shrugs, giving Sam a small smile. They take their seats, place their drinks down on the table, and gets comfortable. “So who is it this time?”

Sam tells him about all the things that happened in the last month at his workplace. All the details of the   _drama_ he encountered, since they don’t see each other as often as they used to.

So they stay there for an hour, just talking about everything that happened to them for the past month. Sam asks him his plans for Halloween and invites him over to Bifrost since Thor is hosting a Halloween party on the 30th. Steve tells him that he’ll think about it, trying change the subject immediately. He doesn’t like Halloween because then he’ll be forced to wear something other than his usual clothes and he’s not really creative enough to think of something good to wear. Sam lets it go and starts telling him about the PT patients he’s been handling the past three months.

Sam is in the middle of telling Steve about this one PT patient when Steve’s phone rings.

Steve shoots Sam an 'is it okay?’ look, and Sam just nods, taking a sip from his cup, grimacing because it’s probably turned cold.

Steve opens the message and lets out a quiet laugh, biting his bottom lip to stop from laughing too loud.

“What are you laughing about?”

Steve stiffens, his silent laughter dying on his lips as he looks up from his phone to see Sam staring at him from across the table with his eyebrow raised.

He grips his phone tightly before putting it back down on the table.

“Nothing,” He replies, clearing his throat discreetly.

“Uh huh.” Sam gives him an unimpressed look, before taking a sip from his coffee, not breaking eye contact.

Steve doesn’t know what else to do so he does the same thing. He grabs his cup of coffee from the table and takes a sip from it, taking his eyes away from Sam.

“So, are you gonna tell me what you're laughing about or do I have to force it out of you?” Sam asks flatly.

“It’s nothing.”

It’s not nothing.

Bucky just sent him a photo of Monty slicing an Oreo on a plate with a fork and a knife, and under the photo, it just said **_Fine Cuisine._ **

So, naturally, Steve had to laugh at that. Because it’s Bucky. And apparently, everything that Bucky says is funny.

“You’re a bad liar,” Sam comments.

“Shut up,” Steve scoffs, causing Sam to laugh at him lightly.

“I’m just telling the truth, man.” Sam grins at him teasingly. “So, who is that?”

Steve looks away and gulps. “No one.”

“Bullshit.” Sam tilts his chin, challenging Steve.

Steve sighs heavily before rolling his eyes and responding, “Just a friend of mine.”

“Do I happen to know this _friend_?” Sam asks, looking at him with an expectant look.

He inhales deeply before muttering, “You probably don’t.”

“Oh come on!” Sam throws his hand in exasperation. “You gotta give more than that.”

“There’s nothing really much to give.” Steve shrugs, before continuing, “We only met like a month ago.”

“Where did you meet her?”

“I met _him_ at Tony’s gala,” Steve replies, after taking a sip from his coffee, avoiding Sam’s gaze for a moment.

Sam perks up and leans on the table with an excited look on his face.

“Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is no.” Steve clenches his jaw.

“I was gonna ask if you’re gonna ask him out,” Sam says smugly. “So, you’re not? Gonna ask him out, I mean.”

“Probably not,” He sighs defeatedly. Bucky is way out of his league. And besides, he doesn’t even know if Bucky likes guys. He probably does, but Bucky actually saying yes _if_ Steve asks him out is one chance in a billion.

There were times where Steve thought Bucky was flirting with him, but then Steve realized that Bucky probably flirts with everyone, so he shut down the idea of Bucky actually being interested in him down the drain. There's no way.

Sam hums, scratching his stubble. “You sure about that?”

“I still don’t know him that well,” He says as if he actually has the balls to ask the chef out.

Sam rolls his eyes exasperatedly. “That’s what dating is for, Steve. In case you’ve forgotten.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is.”

“It’s not,” Steve insists.

Because the moment he gets close to someone, he’s fucked. There’s no going back. That’s why he keeps people at an arm’s length all the time. He gets attached way too easily, and he knows how messy it can be to get attached to someone who will inevitably leave him in the end. It’s ugly. It’s messy. And it’s sad.

“Yes it is. If you don’t like him enough to make it work then you can leave,” Sam replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Steve is about to respond disapprovingly when his phone vibrates on the table, alerting him that he has a new message. He glances at Sam who’s looking at him with a raised eyebrow, before opening it and finding two text messages from Bucky again.

**_I’m with Tony right now for their cake testing._ **

**_I think I’m gonna ask him stories about you._ **

He bites the insides of his cheeks. He’s flattered that Bucky wants to know more about him but also terrified, because he’s asking _Tony_. Tony has known Steve long enough to conjure up an embarrassing story about him if he wants to.

**_Don’t you dare._ **

**_Too late. He’s telling me about the Manhattan incident._ **

Steve groans, knowing exactly what Bucky is talking about, before typing out.

**_You’re both going to hell._ **

**_Should I save a seat for you?_ **

Steve rolls his eyes fondly, trying hard not to blush (he’s failing), before his eyes landed on Sam, who’s looking at him smugly.

“So, you’re not gonna ask him out, huh?” Sam shoots him a smug look.

“Shut up.” Steve blushes before flipping Sam off.

\---

Two days after his meet-up with Sam, Steve finds himself nervously trying to fix his hair in front of his bathroom mirror.

Bucky texted him earlier and said he’s already on his way to his apartment, sending Steve here in front of his mirror, trying to tame his uncooperative hair into a moderate style. He’s excited but nervous at the same time, and it’s making him want to tear his hair out.

Getting to know Bucky has been a bittersweet experience for Steve. In the span of a week full of random messages and late night calls, Steve finds himself actually liking Bucky more and more. He’s charming, he’s passionate about his job, and he’s funny. He also laughs at Steve’s lame jokes. That in and of itself should have been a warning sign for Steve. He’s starting to really _like_ Bucky, and it’s scaring him more than he can admit.

He’s never felt like this in such a long time, and his conversation with Sam two days ago felt like such a slap in the face because he knows Sam will be laughing at him if he finds out Steve’s current state. There’s a blurry line between liking someone and having feelings for someone, and he’s walking in that line, practically _blind_ , and he’s starting to lean more towards the latter.

He’s terrified that he will like Bucky a little bit too much, and he knows himself, he knows he will inevitably like Bucky as more than a friend, and he’ll never be content with that.

Steve is staring at his reflection in the mirror helplessly, when he hears a knock on the door.

He stumbles out of his bathroom and darts towards the door, his heart beating hard inside his chest. He looks down at himself and sees that he looks presentable enough with his black slacks and light grey sweater before carding his fingers through his hair, huffing out a breath.

He opens the door and the first thing Steve notices about the man standing in front of him is the lack of facial hair.

“Hello,” Bucky greets, giving him a faint smile.

“You shaved,” Steve blurts out, his cheeks turning pink when he realized what he just said.

“Yeah…” Bucky nods, bringing his hand to his jaw and scratching it lightly. “Yeah, I did. You don’t like it?”

Steve shakes his frantically. “No, no. It’s— It looks good. I like it.”

Bucky gives him a small smirk before looking past Steve. “You gonna let me in or?”

“Oh,” Steve breathes out, stepping aside. “Yeah, come in. Sorry.”

Steve gets a good look at Bucky and he swallows down the urge to tell him how good he looks in his black jeans and black sweater under his black leather jacket. He even has a scarf around his neck that accentuates his jawline more. Bucky knows black works for him and he takes advantage of that, while Steve stands there, slowly dying inside. This is also the first time Steve sees Bucky with his hair down, and he suddenly has the urge to run his fingers through his hair. It look so _soft._

Steve finds himself staring, so he quickly diverts his gaze. He gulps and takes a glance at Bucky and finds the other man already looking at him. Bucky stares at him, a hint of an amused smile on his lips, before stepping inside Steve’s apartment.

Suddenly, his stomach is tied in knots.

It always makes Steve anxious whenever new people come into his apartment. There’s always that nagging feeling of being expected to have a nice home because, well, he designs and builds houses for a living, so _naturally,_ he has to have a beautiful house of his own. But that’s not always the case.

It’s definitely not Steve’s case.

“I, uh, sorry for the mess. I didn’t have the time to clean up.” Steve scratches the back of his neck, his eyes zeroing in on the mugs littered all over his apartment. He drank a lot of coffee this past week. So what?

 _For someone who has a heart problem, you sure inhale coffee like there’s no tomorrow._ Steve hears Sam’s voice at the back of his head, almost causing him to automatically roll his eyes.

He shakes his head before looking at Bucky again, ready for the judgement of the state of his apartment, but he just finds him looking at the frames hanging on his wall. They’re all of his art that he does from time to time whenever he’s not buried in his workload. His ma would always put all of his art up back in their old apartment, so he did the same thing here, just to create the illusion that his ma’s still with him.

He sees Bucky’s hand almost reaching for one painting in particular, but retracts his hand quickly. Steve inhales deeply as he watches Bucky take in all of his work. Out of all the things in his apartment he thought Bucky would be interested in, he didn’t take his art into account.

“You like art?” Bucky asks, looking over his shoulder to take a glance at Steve briefly.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, his feet taking him to Bucky. “I dabble in it sometimes.”

“Who’s the artist?” Bucky points at the paintings and sketches, before looking at Steve expectantly. His cheeks feels hot. He doesn’t answer Bucky right away, clearing his throat discreetly instead. “Well?”

“I just—” Steve gulps, before looking away. “It’s, uh— It’s me.”

“You? You made this?”

“Yes,” Steve replies, still not looking at Bucky. “It’s not that good, but—”

“What do you mean _not good_?” Bucky almost exclaims, his tone offended, causing Steve to take a glance at him. He’s staring at Steve with that unreadable look on his face again. “These look amazing, Steve. They look better than the ones I see in museums.”

“No need to suck up on me, Barnes,” Steve tries to joke to hide the fact that his whole body feels like it’s on fire right now.

Bucky huffs out a chuckles before saying “I mean it, though.” He looks at the paintings again with a strange look on his face. “They’re amazing.”

Steve doesn't know what to say so he just sends Bucky a grateful smile and whispering, “Thanks.” before taking a deep breath and stepping backwards. “You want some coffee?”

“Maybe later, after we go to Target.” Bucky smiles at him before making his way to the kitchen, Steve following him helplessly. “So, this is your kitchen.”

Steve turns away and clears his throat. “It’s not much.”

“I can see that,” Bucky says as he looks around the kitchen before his eyes land on the cupboards. “May I?”

Steve nods and Bucky opens them to find… well, nothing. Steve really doesn’t have any kitchen utensils besides the spatula, the frying pan, and the coffee maker. Bucky whistles under his breath and gives Steve a teasing look.

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun in Target,” Bucky says before closing the cupboard and winking at Steve.

_I’m fucked._

\---

“Bucky, no.” Steve says frustratedly as he follows Bucky around Target. “That’s a lot.”

“You need this,” Bucky replies dryly as he puts a sauce pot in the cart. “Trust me.”

“I—” Steve stops and groans, almost tempted to stomp his foot. “I don’t even know when I’ll ever use that.”

“I’m here to teach you, aren’t I?” Bucky arches his eyebrow at him before turning to the next aisle.

He hums as he grabs and drops things to the cart, not even bothering to ask Steve any input. But then Steve remembers he literally has no license to give any sort of input on the matter because he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing and, well, Bucky does.

They stop at the blender aisle and Steve can see Bucky contemplating before making his way towards the food processor.

“No,” Steve says flatly. “Absolutely not.”

“What?” Bucky looks at him innocently.

“Don’t you dare, Bucky.”

“I’m not even doing anything yet.”

“If you grab a food processor, I’m leaving.” Steve narrows his eyes at Bucky, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Work on your intimidation a bit more, _sweetheart_ ,” Bucky says smugly before walking past Steve, pushing the cart with him.

Steve is fucked. Steve is completely and utterly fucked. His heart is beating rapidly and he needs to digest these damn butterflies inside his stomach. Bucky just called him sweetheart, and it’s not like he hasn’t been called that before by other people, but the way Bucky just said it … It’s doing things to him, and fuck, he knows where this leads.

“But I’ll let you get away for now. We’ll stick to the basics.” Bucky says, looking at him over his shoulders, waiting for him at the end of the aisle. He doesn’t know what to do so he just nods. Bucky smiles at him before continuing, “Now, come on, let’s go to the grocery section. I’m making us alfredo for dinner.”

Steve starts making his way towards Bucky, but stops in his tracks, realizing what the brunet just said.

“You’re what?” Steve looks at Bucky with slightly wide eyes.

“I said, we’re going to the grocery section. I’m gonna make alfredo for dinner,” Bucky replies.

“I— You’re not going to teach me?” Steve asks.

“No.” Bucky smiles at him amusedly before shrugging. “Lessons are on weekends, remember?”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay.” Steve nods dumbly, before walking towards Bucky. “So, I’ll see you again this weekend?”

Bucky hums. “If you’re not busy.”

“I’m not,” Steve replies, shaking his head.

“Okay.” Bucky gives him a genuine smile, before elbowing him. “Come, on. It’s getting late. We better get those groceries.”

“Yeah, okay.” He breathes out as he follows him towards the grocery section.

Steve walks with Bucky around the store while he grabs and puts items after items into the cart. He’s about to protest, but he’s trying to keep his mouth shut because everytime he tries to say something, Bucky will just look at him and raise his eyebrow, challenging him to actually do it. And he never does. Because as stubborn as he is, he just takes one look at Bucky and he’s already lost.

They stop in front of the pasta aisle and Bucky is looking at the variety of pastas, contemplating. Steve can’t do anything else but stare. _‘God, he’s beautiful.’_ Steve thinks to himself, as he admires Bucky’s rosy pink cheeks from the October chill outside and clear blue eyes that seem to look extra bright because of the store’s lighting.

Bucky decides on which brand to use and grabs it, putting it in the cart. His eyes land on Steve, catching him staring. They stare at each other for a minute, before Steve looks away in shame.

He needs to get his shit together.

\---

“I know what you’re gonna say,” Bucky says as they step outside of Target. “Don’t say—”

“You shouldn't have done that,” Steve grumbles, not looking at Bucky. He hugs the bag of groceries tightly when the cold night air suddenly hits the back of his neck. His damn jacket doesn’t do jack shit for this weather. Christ. He forgot how cold it is during October. He should’ve worn a scarf.

He shivers before looking at Bucky, and throwing him a glare. “You can’t do that every single time, Bucky. I can pay for my own stuff.”

Bucky blows a breath, grocery bags in hand, and looks at Steve. “I know.”

“Then, why do you keep doing it? I’m not some charity case, okay?”

“I know.”

“And I know I can’t cook, but that doesn’t mean you got to do everything for me.”

“I know.”

“I don’t need you buying stuff for me.”

“I know.”

“I have my own money.”

“I know.”

Steve throws Bucky a sideway glance. “Are you going to keep saying that until I talk myself down?”

Bucky smirks at him. “Probably.”

Steve lets out a shaky breath before rolling his eyes at Bucky. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Bucky shakes his head slightly before chuckling, causing Steve to do the same thing.

They make their way to the parking lot in comfortable silence. The cold night wind blows again, and this time, Steve can’t hide the shiver that went through his body. He puffs out a breath before shaking the shiver away. Bucky stops walking causing Steve to stop as well.

He watches Bucky put down the bags on the ground and take off his scarf before standing in front of Steve.

“Here,” Bucky says gently, before wrapping the scarf around him.

A different kind of shiver runs down his spine.

Steve gulps, his cheeks burning, before whispering, “You don’t have to—”

“You should've worn a scarf,” Bucky comments, rearranging the scarf on Steve. His fingers touches the side of Steve’s neck, and Steve almost pulls away from the cold contact. But refrains from doing so, because, _Bucky is touching him._

“There. Much better.” Bucky tugs on the scarf gently one last time before sending Steve a small smile. “Let’s go?”

Steve nods as he tries to calm his heart down.

\---

Steve finds himself sitting at his dining table as he watches Bucky cook the fettuccine alfredo pasta he was talking about earlier.

He’s sauteing the mushrooms on the saucepan they just bought, and Steve can’t help but admire him.

He’s in his zone. This is his forté. This is where he’s the most comfortable at. “ _Cooking will always be my safe place.”_ He told Steve that himself when they were doing their lesson back in his house.

Steve feels like he's in a trance as he watches Bucky cook.

“So, have you thought about it?” Bucky suddenly asks as he sautés the cashew cream into mushrooms.

“Thought about what?” Steve asks, snapping out of his thoughts.

“Natasha’s Halloween party,” Bucky replies as he puts the drained pasta on the saucepan and mixes it with the sauce.

“Oh,” Steve breathes out.

He honestly forgot about that.

“You don’t wanna go, do you?” Bucky asks rhetorically, raising his eyebrow at him.

“I—” Steve opens and closes his mouth, trying to think of a response. He sighs and goes for the truth. “I don’t like Halloween.”

Bucky hums as he puts the pasta into their respective bowls and makes his way towards Steve in the dining table. He puts the bowl in front of Steve and sits next to him, putting his bowl down as well.

“Me too,” Bucky replies as he twirls his past with the fork. “But Natasha’s persuasive, so I always end up coming to her party anyway.”

Steve nods, twirling around his fork in the bowl. “You and Natasha are pretty close.” Steve comments.

Bucky nods as he eats his food. “Yeah. She’s been with me since day one. She did all the numbers and I did all the cooking. Without her, that restaurant would’ve been closed after the first few months.”

“Give yourself more credit,” Steve says, a faint smile forming on his lips.

“Oh, I do.” Bucky gives him a teasing smirk, causing Steve to elbow him. “But I also give credit where it’s due.”

“You got a lot of faith in her.” Steve smiles tightly, shoving his fork full of pasta in his mouth.

“Why wouldn’t I? She’s one of my best friends.” Bucky smiles at him before turning serious again. “But don't tell her that. She already has an ego the size of Alaska.”

_One of my best friends._

Okay. So they’re not together. Steve, despite himself, lets out a tiny sigh of relief.

“She seems pretty cool,” He comments. “Her parties must be a blast.”

“They are.” Bucky confirms, giving him a faint smile.

“Do you—” Steve clears his throat, diverting his gaze to his pasta bowl. “Do you, uh, want me to come to the party?”

Bucky chuckles. “Of course, I do.”

Steve looks down on his bowl and contemplates. Maybe he can bring Sam with him… But then he remembers that would be a bad idea because Sam and Bucky in the same room? It will be a disaster. One look at Steve with Bucky in the room, and Sam will immediately _know._

“I’ll think about it,” Steve says, repeating what he just said to Natasha and Sam.

“If you’re worried about it being too much, you don’t have to. Her parties are pretty laid back. No loud music. Just good liquor and great company.” Bucky says, looking at Steve expectantly.

He bites his bottom lip to stop himself from smiling.

“That sounds like an advertisement.” Steve snickers.

“Shut up,” Bucky mutters, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Oh, so when you tease me, it's alright? But when I do the same to you, suddenly it’s not?” Steve sends a mock offended look, causing Bucky to roll his eyes at him.

“You’re a punk.” Bucky mutters under his breath causing Steve to laugh quite openly.

He glances at Bucky and finds him staring at him with that same unreadable look on his face. Steve's laughter dies from his lips.

“You have a nice laugh,” Bucky says softly, causing Steve’s whole body to heat up.

“Uh, I don’t really—” Steve stammers, looking everywhere, but at Bucky.

“You do,” He insists, his voice sounding sincere, making Steve glance back at him. He’s looking at Steve with those bright blue eyes and Steve feels like he’s being punched in the gut.

Steve has never been and will never be good with receiving compliments from other people. He’s always unsure of whether they really mean what they say about him or if they just feel obligated to say them.

He doesn’t know what to say so he keeps quiet, with Bucky still watching him with furrowed eyebrows. They both stare at each other for a moment, the only sound that can be heard in the entire apartment is their breathing.

“You don’t do well with compliments, do you?” Bucky suddenly asks, breaking the silence.

How he managed to figure that out so easily is beyond Steve.

Steve bites his bottom lip before giving him a tight smile. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for that,” Bucky says seriously.

Steve shrugs and Bucky probably senses that Steve doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, so he asks him about his art instead, changing the subject. Steve perks up, his mood immediately changing. They spend the rest of their dinner talking about the different kinds of art and artists Steve admires. He mentions that he goes to art museums whenever he gets a day off, and Bucky asks him where he usually goes. He tells him all the museums he has visited and asks Bucky if he goes to museums as well.

“I used to visit a few museums in the past, but never got the time to do it nowadays. Maybe we can go together some time,” Bucky suggests.

“I’d like that,” Steve replies, as he finishes his bowl.

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, tilting his head to the side with a small smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah,” Steve replies, returning the smile, as he collects their bowls.

“Wait—” Bucky grabs Steve’s wrist, stopping him from standing up. “I’ll do the dishes.”

“No.” Steve shakes his head, standing up from his seat. “You already cooked the food.”

“Let me do it,” Bucky insists, standing up as well, grabbing the bowls from Steve’s hands, their fingers touching in the process.

“Bucky, come on. You don’t have to do that,” He says, slightly raising his voice.

“And I already told you...” Bucky leans forwards, getting a bit closer to him, almost causing his breath to hitch. “I want to.”

“Bucky…”

“Just stay put and let me do this, okay?”

“But—”

“Steve, let me do this for you,” Bucky says firmly, leaving no room for arguments. Steve bites the insides of his cheeks, his stubbornness boiling inside him. “Sit there and tell me more about your museum trips, then I’ll tell you about my concert escapades. Deal?”

“Concert escapades?”

“Yeah. I like music,” Bucky shrugs nonchalantly.

Steve blows a breath before nodding and sitting back down.

“I’m not happy with this, just so you know,” Steve says stubbornly.

“I know,” Bucky says in a matter of fact tone. “You’re the most stubborn person I've ever met.”

“Hey! I’m not!” Steve protests, causing Bucky to laugh lightly before making his way to the sink.

“Whatever you say, pal,” Bucky says before looking at him from his shoulder before winking.

He wills himself not to blush this time, but fails miserably. He watches Bucky start the dishes and the more he stares, the more his heart beats rapidly.

The domesticity of the situation is making his chest ache, and it’s not the kind of ache he’s used to.

_I could have this…_

Steve shakes his head, berating himself for thinking that’s even a possibility, before telling Bucky about his trip to the art museum in Manhattan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed this chapter. let me know what you think. i always love reading your comments. they really make my day. see you in the next chapter lovelies <3 xx
> 
> twitter: defrostedbucky  
> tumblr: defrostedbuck


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! im back! sorry for the wait. last week has been tough for me so i didn't get much writing done. anyway hope you like this chapter <3

_Brock can go to hell and burn._

Steve thinks to himself as he throws the blueprint canister on the passenger seat and gets inside his car, closing the door with a loud bang. He’s vibrating in anger, frustration and stress, he honestly feels like he’s going to combust any moment now.

Fuck. He thought everything was going well in his life these past few days. But he should’ve known. He should’ve seen this one coming. Because that’s just how his life works.

The moment something good happens to him, life always tries to do a 180 on him.

Brock woke him up by calling him to the construction site just to tell him that they have to change some materials again because allegedly the delivery was being held back for another two weeks. Steve didn’t have the energy to fight, so he just nodded along and let Brock do whatever he thought needed to be done. The thing that really riled him up was the fact that Brock had the audacity to try and _flirt_ with him in front of the construction team.

Brock knows how to push his buttons and he really can’t do anything other than take it because he’s a professional—he needs to be professional. He’s not going to crack on the job. If he ever sees Brock outside of work though and pulls that same shit to him… Now, that’s a different story.

Steve lets out a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He should’ve been in his apartment, making up for all the me-time he didn’t get for the past week. It’s a Saturday, for God’s sake. He should’ve been resting. He should've been…

He should've been getting ready for Bucky’s visit for their lesson.

Shit.

He forgot to call Bucky to tell him about the sudden change of plans.

He hastily pulls out his phone from his pocket and calls Bucky’s number, his hands jittery.

It takes four rings before he picks up.

_“Hey, I was about to call you.”_

“Uh, hi,” Steve greets nervously. He can hear Bucky make a contemplating sound.

_“What’s wrong?”_

Leave it to Bucky to instantly know something’s not right.

Steve sighs heavily before replying, “Yeah, I— About the lesson today...”

_“What about it?”_

“I don’t think I can do it today.”

_“Oh.”_

“I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner,” Steve apologizes, slumping back on his car seat.

“ _It's_ _okay,”_ Bucky replies, his voice soft. _“Do you have somewhere to be? Is there an emergency?”_

“There was an emergency at work, but everything is settled now. I already dealt with it,” He explains, causing Bucky to hum in understanding.

_“That's good.”_

“I want to do the lesson, I really do, but I don't think I _can_. But we can still do it if you want. I—”

 _“Why? Are you sick?”_ Bucky asks, his voice laced with concern.

Steve bites his bottom lip  before sighing.

“No. I just feel tired. Mentally. I don’t think I’ll be able to learn anything even if I wanted to.”

_“Did something happen?”_

“No. I just didn't expect Brock to call me on a Saturday. I’m supposed to be sleeping in.”

Bucky lets out an almost audible chuckle. _“That’s fair. Wait... who's Brock?”_

Steve can't help, but roll his eyes from the mere mention of the douchebag’s name. “The constant pain in my ass.”

“ _Seems like a_ great _guy,”_ Bucky says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Steve just laughs lightly before dying down into a sigh. Neither of them speak for awhile until Bucky breaks the silence. “ _Wanna go get some ice cream?”_

Steve gets caughts off guard, sitting up straight.

“What?”

_“I asked if you wanna go and get some ice cream.”_

_“_ In this weather?” He asks.

“ _Yeah. Why not?”_ Bucky replies, and Steve can almost see him shrugging.

Winter is only two months away, the weather is starting to get colder and colder by the day. But ice cream sounds like a really good idea right now. He’s been craving it for awhile anyway. Maybe it's time to treat himself a bit. And Bucky’s going to be there. That in and of itself should be enough reason to get ice cream.

“Where? I’m lactose intolerant. I can only eat dairy-free ice cream,” Steve informs Bucky.

“ _Don’t worry. I know just the place.”_

\---

As it turns out, the ice cream shop Bucky knows is a small shop jammed between two apartment buildings. If people don’t know what they’re looking for, they’ll miss it.

Steve breathes deep and opens the door.

“Good day! Welcome to Little Dipper!” The woman behind the counter greets Steve, smiling at him warmly. _She has a nice smile_ , Steve thinks to himself.

Steve nods and smiles back before the woman goes back to arranging cups in the corner of the counter. He looks around and the first thing he notices about the place is the dimension of it. It’s narrow, but long enough to have tables or booths in the back. It has an 80’s diner feel to it, and Steve is in awe.

The floor is an alternate pattern of pink and white tiles. The walls are also pink with blue and white accents, the stools and tables carrying the same color schemes. There is a counter located at the right side of the shop, but the walls behind it are painted blue instead of pink.

The place appears to be isolated except for the woman who greeted him and the two teenagers enjoying their ice cream in the last booth.

He starts to walk towards one of the booths when two hands suddenly covers his eyes from behind. His whole body stiffens, but then he catches that all too familiar scent...

“Guess who...” The deep, warm voice whispers in his left ear, almost causing his knees to buckle.

His body sags almost instantly when he realizes who it is.

“Bucky...” He breathes out.

He can hear Bucky sigh almost dramatically behind him, causing him to roll his eyes.

“I can feel you rolling your eyes,” Bucky says, trying not to laugh, before pulling his hands away.

Steve thought Bucky was going to completely pull away, but he just rests his hands on Steve’s shoulders, gripping them gently, and turns him around slowly.

He doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but he’s definitely not expecting to be this close to Bucky. They’re only a few inches apart and he’s not going to be surprised if Bucky hears his breath catching in his throat when they came face to face.

“Hi,” Bucky greets him, his smile almost as bright as the first summer sunlight. It’s making Steve’s head spin.

“Hello,” Steve responds as he takes in Bucky’s very close face.

“You ready to—” Bucky stops mid-sentence and leans forward slightly. He narrows his eyes at Steve’s face, and all Steve can do is not implode right then and there. Bucky is staring at him and it’s making his blood rush up to his face from the attention.

“What?” Steve asks, before looking away, his face burning up.

“You look pale,” Bucky says, his voice low, causing Steve to glance back to him.

Steve opens and closes his mouth twice, thinking of something to say.

“You’ve been overworking, haven’t you?” Bucky asks flatly.

Steve furrows his eyebrows before pulling away from Bucky’s grasp and giving him a faint smile. “No...” He lies.

Bucky looks him up and down before inhaling deep and giving him a tight smile. He pats his arm before saying, “Let’s get some ice cream?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, nodding before following Bucky to the counter.

“James! Long time, no see,” The woman behind the counter greets Bucky as soon as she sees him.

“Hey, Hope,” Bucky smiles and greets back, stopping in front of the counter. “How are you?”

“Never been better,” She replies brightly. “What about you? It’s been a while since you last visited. How— How’ve you been?” She asks sounding unsure.

Bucky’s smile falters. “I’m good. I’m really good.” Bucky replies, looking at Steve briefly.

Hope takes a glance at Steve who’s standing right behind Bucky, before smiling mischievously. “Hi there. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced yet.” She says to Steve before holding out her hand. “I’m Hope.”

“Steve,” Steve responds, shaking her hand. She smiles at him with bright, expecting eyes and he can’t help the blush creeping on his cheeks. Her smile is contagious though, so he can’t help but smile back.

“Nice to meet you, Steve,” Hope says, before looking at them, back and forth. She clasps her hands together and smiles at them. “You guys ready to order?”

Steve and Bucky looks at each other briefly before nodding.

Steve goes for the coffee caramel fudge non-dairy ice cream, of course, and Bucky goes for the strawberry sorbet. Bucky starts pulling out his wallet, but Steve beats him to it. He pays Hope as soon as he gets his money out, looking at Bucky the whole time with a small smirk on his lips.

“You’re a little shit, you know that?” Bucky says before chuckling lightly.

He just shrugs before grinning at Bucky. “You like me anyway.” He teases, not really paying attention to what he’s saying. The moment he realizes what he just said, it’s already too late.

Bucky is looking at him with that same damn look he always gives Steve and it’s making Steve want to bang his head on the nearest wall.

“Can’t argue with that,” Bucky replies, his voice soft.

Before Steve can even think of a response, Hope clears her throat, looking at them with a glint in her eyes. “I’ll bring your orders to your table, lovebirds.” She says before winking at them.

Steve just stands there, probably looking the reddest he’s ever been, before Bucky rolls his eyes at Hope and guides Steve to the nearest booth.

He sits at the booth facing the doorway and Bucky sits parallel to him.

“I’m sorry about her,” Bucky says, looking calm, as he gets comfortable in his seat. “She just hasn’t seen me in so long.”

How the hell is he so calm? Steve is literally going to combust right here, right now. Hope just called them ‘lovebirds’ and Bucky didn’t even blink. Does he not care at all? Steve feels like his chest is going to explode and Bucky is just sitting there with his hands on the table and his eyes on Steve. Shit. Now, Bucky is smiling at him like he knows something he doesn’t.

“When was the last time you came here?” Steve asks before clearing his throat discreetly.

“I don’t even remember,” Bucky replies, his eyes glazing over. But before Steve can even think of as to why, Bucky shakes his head slightly before smiling at him, a bit tight for Steve’s liking. “A few months, give or take.”

There’s something Bucky isn’t telling him, he can see it from the way his shoulders are starting to come up to his ears. And well, he knows he’s not in position to ask about it, but it doesn’t mean he’s not curious about it. There are a lot of questions he likes to ask Bucky, but he knows he doesn’t have the guts to ask them. So he just nods and smiles back at the brunet.

They easily fall back to their normal string of conversation as they wait for their orders. It doesn’t take long for Hope to show up with their orders in hand though, and soon enough, they’re digging in to their ice creams like kids on a summer day.

Steve can’t help but close his eyes as he savours the flavor of the ice cream.

“This is really good,” Steve says after swallowing the ice cream.

“This is the only ice cream shop I go to,” Bucky admits, putting down the spoon in his cup. “I’ve tried recreating their ice cream, but it’s just not the same.”

“You make ice cream too?” Steve asks, his eyes widening a little, placing down his cup to the table.

“Yeah.” Bucky shrugs.

“Honestly, what _can’t_ you do?” Steve shakes his head at him incredulously.

Steve stares at Bucky long enough to see his cheeks turn into a pinky shade. Steve can’t help the feeling of pride blooming in his chest as he watches Bucky clear his throat and hide the fact that he’s actually blushing.

Bucky runs his fingers through his hair, seemingly forgetting that he’s wearing a hair tie, and ruins his hair bun slightly. He groans before pulling the tie off of his hair. Steve thinks Bucky is going to let his hair fall down like he did last Thursday night.

But no.

Bucky proceeds to gather up his hair in the back, flexing his arms and almost sending Steve into cardiac arrest in doing so, and starts twisting the tie into his hair.

Steve gulps nervously.

He knows what this is. He knows what his brain is cooking up. He knows why his heart is starting to beat a little faster than it did before he entered the shop. He knows what the hell is happening and he’s not sure if he’s ready to admit it to himself yet.

He stares at Bucky as he continues to tie his hair into a bun, holding his breath.

“Hey…” Bucky waves his hand in front of him, breaking Steve’s in his trance. “You got quiet there for a second.”

Steve is about to answer when he hears the front door of the shop opens.

“You’re late again.” He hears Hope say from behind the counter.

“Hey, sorry… The traffic is just…”

Steve’s head perks up.

He knows that voice.

“It’s true! I was stuck in traffic. I texted you. Didn’t you— Steve?”

Shit. He saw him.

Steve smiles tightly before saying, “Hi Scott.”

“Steve! It’s you!” Scott exclaims, putting his bag down the counter.

Bucky tilts his head, looking at Steve expectantly, with one eyebrow raised. Steve just gives him a small smile before looking at Scott and Hope again, just to find them bickering.

“Wait, Steve?” Hope cuts in, looking at Scott with furrowed eyebrows. “Your man crush _Steve_?”

“Hope!” Scott hisses.

Hope just laughs at him and shakes her head before resting her chin in the palm of her hands and smiling at Scott. “You’re cute.”

Scott grumbles something under his breath, causing Hope to laugh again.

Steve bites the insides of his cheeks, before looking at Bucky briefly and saying, “I’ll be right back…”

Steve stands up and makes his way towards the two.

“Hey, boss,” Scott greets him.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me _that_ when we’re not in the office?” Steve asks rhetorically, causing Scott to chuckle lightly and shrug his shoulders. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Came to visit her at work,” Scott replies, pointing at Hope.

Steve sees Hope make her way around the counter and wrap her arms around Scott’s waist from behind before dropping her chin on his shoulder.

Oh.

“She’s the one you’ve been talking about non-stop,” Steve says slowly, looking at them both. He can see Scott blushing up to his ears and Hope is just smiling like she already knows.

“You talk about me?” Hope teases.

Scott rolls his eyes before saying, “Want me to talk about someone else?”

“No,” Hope simply replies, grinning, before retracting herself from Scott and looking at Steve. “Sorry about that. You should go back to your table. Your date is waiting for you.”

Steve’s neck heats up, before glancing at Scott nervously.

“You’re on a date?” Scott asks incredulously.

Steve makes the mistake of looking at Bucky who’s already looking at him from their table with a tiny smirk on his lips.

“That’s your date?” Scott is staring at Bucky with wide eyes before looking back at Steve.

Steve is about to answer 'No, they're not on a date. They're just two guys, casually eating ice cream on a Saturday afternoon.’ but Scott is already waving his hand at Bucky.

“Hi! I’m Scott!” Scott says loud enough for Bucky to hear.

“Bucky,” He replies back as he nods his head once at Scott.

_This is a mess._

Steve resists the urge to actually smack his head on the counter.

“You didn't tell us you were seeing someone.” Scott whispers. At least he has the decency to.

“I’m—”

“Is that the reason why you couldn't come to Bifrost with us weeks ago?”

Well, Scott’s not wrong about that. But not in the way he thinks he is.

“Yeah but—”

“Okay, Scott, that’s enough. You’re going to scare my customers away.” Hope grabs Scott’s arm and pulls him with her.

“See you on Monday, Steve!” Scott exclaims, before being dragged inside a room behind the counter.

“See you,” Steve whispers to himself before making his way back to their table and sitting back down, his blood running cold.

Word travels fast inside the office. If Scott so much as whisper it to the wind, everybody will know. They're going to tease him, and ask questions, and if the whole office know, then Sam will know. And if Sam knows, then _Tony_ will know. If Tony knows, he’s going —

“Hey…”

Steve looks down to see Bucky placing his hand on top of his.

“Are you okay?” He asks, squeezing his hand.

Steve almost chokes. Bucky’s hand is so firm and warm and something he’s never had in a long time. And he’s starting to think that maybe he’s just so tired to the point where he’s allowing himself to think like this. He shouldn't be thinking like this about his friend, but his head is kind of swimming because he only had thirteen hours of sleep this whole week combined. But nevertheless he knows where this is going, and his sleep-deprived and exhausted ass is thinking that maybe...just maybe, it's okay to acknowledge his developing feelings for the man right in front of him.

(He knows he’s going to regret that later on.)

“I’m okay,” Steve breathes out, smiling tightly at Bucky.

Bucky smiles at him softly and Steve can't help but feel his heart constricting inside his chest.

(He’s already regretting it.)

\---

By the time they step out of the shop, it’s already 6pm.

Steve didn't even realize that they've been there for almost five hours. But he guesses, time really does fly fast when you're having fun. But still, he can't believe Hope let them stay there for that long. He doesn’t know her that well, but Steve likes her already.

It’s been so long since he had the opportunity to just sit down and have an endless conversation with someone other than Sam, or Tony, for that matter. He’s never been good with making new friends, but with Bucky… It’s effortless. He’s never felt comfortable and nervous at the same time with someone before, and that should scare him, but his exhausted brain is telling him that it’s okay, _for now_.

Spending time with Bucky is easy. It’s never uncomfortable when he’s around. Yes, they fall into silence from time to time, but it’s a comfortable silence, and Steve likes that. Bucky makes him feel like it’s okay to not fill the silence with words because they don’t _need_ to.

“Where are we heading?” Bucky asks, as they turn to a corner.

Steve stops in his tracks, causing Bucky to do the same. “I thought we’re going home?”

“Oh.” Bucky raises his eyebrows. “You want to go home now?”

“I— I didn’t— I thought _you_ wanted to go home.”

“Well, I don’t. Do you?” Bucky looks at him expectantly.

Frankly, Steve does.

He’s already tired from dealing with Brock earlier, and his energy is slowly draining down to zero. His face probably says it all because when he takes a look at Bucky, the other man is already looking at him with understanding in his eyes.

“How about we grab some take out, go to your house, and eat dinner there? Does that sound good to you?” Bucky asks.

Steve just nods and smiles faintly at him.

They take Steve’s car (Apparently, Bucky just walked to the ice cream shop because “It’s cardio.” like that makes any sense at all.), go to the nearest Chinese restaurant and order a bunch of food. Steve fights tooth and nail with Bucky about the payment, but succeeds anyway. They get into Steve’s car and drives to his apartment.

“Can we play some music?” Bucky asks as he leans back comfortably on his seat.

“Sure, yeah.” Steve goes to plug the aux cord to his phone and unthinkingly gives his phone to Bucky.

Bucky looks at him weirdly as he grabs the phone from him before smiling suspiciously.

“You’re just gonna give me free reign on your phone?” He asks, causing Steve to give him a brief look.

“Want me to take it back?” Steve asks nonchalantly, his eyes on the road.

“No,” Bucky quickly replies, before unlocking his phone going directly to the music app. “You don’t have any songs here…”

“It’s in my Spotify,” Steve replies with a teasing tone.

“Ha ha. You’re funny,” Bucky says sarcastically before clicking on the Spotify app and browsing through his songs. “You like 80’s music, huh?”

“My ma loves it so it’s the only thing I’ve listened to since she passed away,” Steve replies before shrugging his shoulder.

“Oh.” He hears Bucky breathe out.

“It’s okay,” Steve says, throwing him a brief smile. “I’m actually searching for new music to listen to, but I just can’t find the time.”

“Really?” Bucky asks, curiously.

“Yeah.”

“Huh,” Bucky crosses his legs before asking, “Want me to make you a playlist?”

“I mean, if you want to…” Steve bites the bottom of his lips, trying to tell himself that this doesn’t mean anything, that Bucky just loves music and he wants to share that interest with Steve.

“I’d love to,” Bucky says before blasting Maneater and concentrating on Steve’s phone.

They drive through Brooklyn as 80’s music blast in Steve’s car speakers. They fall into a comfortable silence as Bucky gets busy with Steve’s phone. Soon enough, Steve pulls over in front of his apartment complex. Steve carries his blueprint canister while Bucky carries the take out as they climb the stairs up to his apartment.

“What happened to the elevator?” Bucky asks as they land on the second floor.

“It never works,” Steve replies, throwing Bucky a what-can-you-do look.

“Have you tried complaining to the landlord?”

“Tried it a million times.”

“Why don’t you move to a better complex? Looks like you can afford it,” Bucky asks as they reach Steve’s front door.

Steve sighs before shrugging and giving Bucky a tight smile, not ready to have this conversation again, especially with Bucky. His weak spots are for him and him alone. He never wants other people knowing them because then they’ll have a hold on him. Which never results into anything good, based on his previous experiences.

But Bucky… Bucky’s already breaking down his walls and he’s _this_ close to actually getting to Steve.

Lord knows Steve’s walls are already cracked up.

They both enter the apartment, Steve placing his canister on his work table near the window and Bucky goes to the kitchen to prepare their plates and utensils. He joins Bucky in the dining table and they start to dig in.

“How come you don’t use the chopsticks?” Bucky asks before shoving a dumpling in his mouth.

“I—” Steve stammers. “I don’t know how.”

“What?” Bucky places down this chopsticks on his plate, staring at Steve.

“I don’t know how to use chopsticks, okay?” Steve admits. “What? Are you going to shame for that?”

Bucky snorts, before shaking his head and raising his hands.

Steve narrows his eyes before he starts eating again. Not a few seconds later, he hears Bucky trying to stifle his laughter.

“Shut up,” Steve hisses, causing Bucky to laugh out loud.

“I can’t—I’m sorry,” Bucky replies, trying to stop himself from laughing.

“Jerk,” Steve mutters under his breath before laughing with Bucky, feeling the happiest he has felt in weeks.

\---

They’re watching Grimm on Netflix as they lounge on Steve’s couch. They’re only at the pilot episode, but Steve’s interest has already been piqued.

“Why are you blinking so much?” Bucky suddenly asks him.

“What?” Steve blinks.

“There.” Bucky points at his eyes. “You’re blinking.”

“Yes, people do that, Bucky.” Steve teases.

“No…” Bucky shakes his head before scooting closer to him on the couch. He leans forward and gets close to Steve’s face. “You’re blinking way too much for the past minute or so.”

Oh.

“It’s my contacts,” Steve says, but mostly to himself.

“You wear contacts?” Bucky asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Steve replies, finally feeling that familiar itch in his eyes. “They’re all dried up now.”

“Well, why aren’t you taking them out yet?”

“Uh… Because you’re still here?” Steve tries to reason out.

“What does that have to do with your contacts?”

“Because if I take them out, I won’t be able to see.”

“You have glasses, don’t you?” Bucky asks rhetorically, before placing his hand on Steve’s arm and squeezing it. “Come on, take them out before your eyes get infected.”

Steve sighs heavily before standing up from the couch and making a beeline for his bathroom. He doesn’t even know why he’s complying to Bucky’s orders, but he’s doing it anyway. He takes his contacts out with practiced ease and goes to his bedroom to grab his glasses from his nightstand, before walking back to the couch.

He still hasn’t put on his glasses because no one, except for Sam, Tony, and Pepper, has seen him with glasses. He doesn’t go out with them on, because it’s just another thing for people to stare at.

He takes a sit down the couch and fumbles with his glasses. He feels Bucky staring at him, waiting for him to put on the glasses.

He turns to his left and sees Bucky’s blob shape, his angular features still prominent.

“Well?” Bucky tilts his head.

Steve sighs defeatedly before putting on his glasses. He blinks and sees Bucky staring at him with a small smirk on his lips.

Steve is preparing himself for the teasing he knows he's going to get, but instead Bucky just keeps on staring at him, not saying anything.

“Hey.” Steve waves his hand in front of Bucky’s face.

“You look good,” Bucky breathes out, still staring at Steve’s face, completely unbothered.

Steve, on the other hand, feels like his face is on fire.

“I, uh, thanks? I guess?” Steve replies, flushed to the roots, before clearing his throat.

“I mean it,” Bucky says, his voice serious. “I’m gonna keep on telling you that until you believe me.”

Steve glances away and pushes his glasses up from the bridge of his nose, his heart threatening to jump out of his throat.

They continue watching the series, both of them seemingly interested in the plot of the show so far. The longer they watch, the closer they get to each other on the couch. Steve can feel Bucky’s thighs on his, and it's taking every bit of his self-control, not to lay his head on his lap. Steve shakes his head before refocusing on the show.

They finally stop on the seventh episode and Bucky heads out of the apartment.

“I had fun today,” Bucky says as he steps out of the apartment.

“Me too,” He agrees. This is the kind of fun he can handle. The laid back kind of fun. And it appears that Bucky also enjoys it as well.

“Maybe we can do it again some time?” Bucky asks with a hopeful look on his face, tucking his hair behind his ear.

“Yeah, sure.” Steve replies, leaning on his doorway. “I’m only a text message or a phone call away.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Bucky smiles at him warmly.

“Wait, what about the lessons?” Steve  asks, suddenly remembering the cooking lessons.

“Let’s just move the lessons to November. Does that sound okay to you? Halloween is next week and it’s gonna be a hectic week.”

Steve nods his head, putting his hands inside his pockets. “Yeah, I kind of forgot about that.” Steve chuckles lightly, looking down at his shoes.

Bucky clears his throat causing Steve to look up at him.

“Still thinking about the Halloween party?” Bucky asks, smiling at him faintly.

Steve takes a deep breath  before slowly releasing it. “Yeah, sorry,” Steve replies, looking down at his shoes again.

“It’s okay,” Bucky assures him. “You don't have to stress about it. But I’ll see you next week, right?”

“I’ll be here.” Steve shrugs, smiling at Bucky weakly. “I got no place to be.”

“I’ll call you,” Bucky says as he takes a step backwards.

“Okay.” Steve nods.

“Bye,” Bucky says, smiling at him. He waves his hand before turning around and walking down the hallway.

“Bye…” Steve whispers to himself before sighing longingly and closing the door.

\---

Steve is lying in his bed, staring at the playlist Bucky made for him earlier.

_i fall to pieces when i’m with you_

He stares at the title of the playlist, his chest feeling tight. Bucky told him it was a line from the first song on the playlist, but it doesn’t mean the mini heart attack he felt earlier when he first saw it wasn’t valid.

He clicks the play button on the playlist and is immediately surrounded by soft guitar sounds and a hauntingly beautiful female voice. His whole apartment already feels less lonely, knowing that Bucky picked out all of these songs for him.

And if he falls asleep listening to every single song on the playlist, no one but him and his four walls will ever know about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed this chapter. thank you for giving this fic a chance. i love you guys. let me know what you think <3 
> 
> twitter: defrostedbucky  
> tumblr: defrostedbuck


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and after a two-months (almost) hiatus...she's back. aaaahhhh i'm so sorry if i didn't update for almost two months. there was just so many things happening with my life since july and i couldn't produce anything readable for you guys. hope you understand. i miss you guys soooo much. 
> 
> as for the next updates, it's back to the regular program. there's gonna be an update maybe once a week/every other week. im never gonna do that hiatus thing again. it really fucked up my already rusty writing skills lmaooooo 
> 
> and to everyone who's still reading this/giving this fic a chance, thank you soooo much <3
> 
> anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this chapter. i know it's not that long, but I really have to get this out bc if i didn't i dont think i ever will. so enjoy! i love you guys <3
> 
> p.s.  
> thanks to my girl, sam for betaing this fic ily <3

It’s five in the afternoon and Steve wants to tears his hair out. Literally.

It’s Halloween and he’s supposed to come and hang out with his friends at Bifrost tonight. He’s supposed to be surrounded by alcohol, good food, and great company. Sam decided not to have a costume party this year just so Steve could attend. He knew how much Steve hates costume parties, so he compromised. Thor agreed to shut down the whole bar just for them, but not without having a heated conversation about it with his brother, Loki, first. After it was all settled, he remembered Natasha’s offer so he immediately told Bucky about it. He felt guilty for turning down Natasha’s offer, but Bucky assured him that it was fine.

“You don’t owe Nat anything. And besides, they’re your friends. They should always come first,” Bucky said to him on the phone two days ago.

But his guilt doesn’t even matter now, since he won’t be able to attend either of those parties.

Thanks to the massive headache he’s sporting right now.

He’s lying in bed, slowly being succumbed to the pain he’s feeling right now. He can’t even open his eyes. All he knows is that he took a nap after he ate his lunch and woke up to this massive headache that almost feels like it’s threatening to split his skull into two. He groans and tries to open his eyes. After a few tries, he manages to open them, the throbbing pain in his head worsening as a result. He grabs his phone before sitting up and groaning. Squinting his eyes, he types out a message to Sam, telling him about the headache and the possibility of him not being able to make it to the party.

After texting Sam, he goes to the Spotify app and puts the playlist Bucky made for him on shuffle. He sets his phone down and lazily lies back on his bed before closing his eyes, the music blasting on his phone already making him feel less alone and a little bit better. He doesn't know how much time has gone by but he groggily wakes up to the sound of his apartment door opening.

He can make out the sound of footsteps walking towards his room, and his body relaxes when he hears Sam’s voice calling out to him.

“Steve?”

Before he can even respond, his bedroom door opens to reveal his friend, face filled with concern.

“Hey, buddy,” Sam says softly, as he approaches the bed before sitting beside him.

“What are you doing here?” Steve croaks out. He tries to sit up but Sam holds him down.

“Don’t even think about it,” Sam warns.

“You should be at the party,” Steve says before groaning and massaging his temple. “Fuck, my head hurts.”

“Oh, I can see that. I can— Whoa, don’t move.”

“I need to—” Steve manages to sit up on his bed, despite Sam holding him down. “I need to take some advil.”

“Let me get it for you.”

“No, it’s okay. I can do it,” Steve says, waving his hand dismissively before throwing his legs over the edge of his bed and stands up, much to Sam’s dismay.

“Come on, man!” He hears Sam protest as he makes his way towards the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He comes back to his bedroom just to see Sam giving him an unamused look. “You and your stubborn ass.”

Steve opens the drawer of his nightstand and grabs an advil. He downs it with the water before setting the glass down on his nightstand. He sits on the edge of the bed beside Sam before sighing heavily, his head pounding mercilessly.

“You okay, man?” Sam asks. “No, wait, that's a stupid question. You're not okay.”

Steve tries to smile but it only looks like he's grimacing.

“What time is it?” Steve asks.

“A little over 9,” Sam replies, looking at his watch.

Steve sighs before saying, “You should be at the party.”

“But you're not okay,” Sam says like it’s the most obvious reason why he’s not at the party.

“I’ll be fine,” Steve mutters before patting Sam on the shoulder. Sam just sighs, shaking his head.

Sam worries.

Steve knows that Sam worries about him. He can feel it radiating off of his friend. Concerned eyes, sympathizing words, heavy sighs... Steve knows them all too well. Sam worries because most of the time, Steve crashes. Steve puts everything and everyone else first, and himself last. He overworks himself to the ground and forgets to take care of himself. It’s a never-ending cycle that Steve can’t break. It’s how he functions. But sometimes though, it’s kind of flattering to know that people like Sam cares about him enough to check up on him once in awhile. But most of the time, it makes him feel guilty. They shouldn’t have to worry about him.

“Since when do you listen to this kind of music?” Sam asks, snapping Steve out of his trance, as the music thrums through the room.

“What?” Steve mutters, rubbing his eyes.

“You’re listening to The Lumineers. When did that happen?” Sam asks him suspiciously.

“Bucky made me a playlist,” Steve replies, his voice slurry from exhaustion. He lays back down on his bed and closes his eyes, completely unaware of what he just said.

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

“Huh?” Steve opens his eyes, confused. He looks up at Sam and finds him staring at him with his eyebrow raised.

“Who’s Bucky?” Sam asks, looking at him expectantly.

Steve gulps, realization finally dawning on him, before groaning and turning his face away from Sam.

“No one.”

“Uh huh.”

Steve scoffs, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“Is Bucky the mystery guy you met at Tony’s gala?” Sam asks, his tone teasing.

“Sam, please. My head hurts.” Steve groans, trying to stray away from the subject.

“Oh no you don’t. You’re not getting out from this one,” Sam replies, before shoving Steve’s arm away from his eyes carefully.

Steve grunts before rubbing his face with his hands. “Okay, okay. Yes. He’s the one I met at Tony’s gala. Happy now?”

Sam chuckles before ruffling Steve’s hair. Steve swats Sam’s hand away before carding his fingers through his hair, trying to fix it.

“So… You wanna talk about this Bucky guy?”

“Sam…”

“I’m just sayin’. It looks like you two have gotten pretty close.”

Steve is about to reply when his phone alerts him that he has a new message. He’s pretty sure it’s Bucky, because who else would it be? No one ever messages him besides Bucky. He’s going to sit up and grab his phone but Sam beats him to it. And since his phone has no lock or password, Sam opens the message without Steve’s consent. Typically, he doesn’t really mind if Sam opens his messages, because he really has nothing to hide. But now…

“Give it to me,” Steve says, reaching for his phone.

“ _Bucky_ texted you,” Sam says, smugly.

“Yes, I know.” Steve sits up and snatches his phone from Sam’s grip before grabbing his glasses from his nightstand, putting them on, and reading the message.

**_Hey, how’s the party?_ **

Steve sighs heavily before glancing at Sam, just to see his friend already looking at him with a smug look on his face. Steve rolls his eyes before typing out a reply.

**_I didn’t make it to the party._ **

Steve puts his phone down, taking a quick glance at Sam. “Don’t say anything.”

“I’m not saying anything!” Sam exclaims defensively.

Steve is about to roll his eyes when he receives another message from Bucky.

**_Why? What happened?_ **

**_Got a headache._ ** Steve replies, but before he can even put his phone down, another reply comes in.

**_Are you okay? You want some company? I can go to your apartment, if you want._ **

Steve can’t help but smile at that. Bucky is very...caring. It’s probably one of the first things he learned about the brunet.

“Okay, I can’t keep my mouth shut anymore. You two are dating, right? Please tell me you are. I can’t afford to lose the bet with Tony,” Sam says, leaning closer to Steve.

“No,” Steve simply replies. “Wait, what bet?”

“No, there are no bets. I didn’t say anything about bets.” Sam scoffs, waving his hand dismissively, causing Steve to roll his eyes. “But seriously… You’re not dating? That's a load of bull.”

“I’m telling the truth,” Steve says firmly, causing Sam to stare at him and hum.

He goes back to his phone and replies to Bucky.

**_Aren't you at Natasha's party right now?_ **

**_I am. But I can leave early._ **

**_You don’t have to._ ** Steve types out a reply, before putting his phone down on his bed.

“But you want to...” Sam says slowly, causing Steve to look at his friend with a confused look.

“Want to what?”

“You want to date him,” Sam says with no doubt in his voice.

Steve swallows down the urge to argue and rolls his eyes instead. Because he does, as much as he hates to admit it. He wants to date Bucky. The hopeless romantic in him _craves_ for someone like Bucky. The brunet is everything he’s ever wanted in a person, but his doubts and insecurities about himself always resurface everytime he so much as think about asking the man out. A tragedy, is what it is.

“You should go to the party. They’re probably waiting for you.” Steve says instead, changing the topic.

Steve stands up from his bed and makes his way to his table to grab his laptop. He can hear Sam sighing heavily behind him, and he honestly can’t blame him. He’s probably frustrated by Steve’s stubbornness, as usual.

“You deserve nice things, you know that, right?” Sam says, as he comes up behind Steve, putting his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve looks over his shoulder to meet Sam’s eyes before nodding. “Yeah, I know.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow morning to check up on you,” Sam says before patting him on the shoulder. “And before you even say anything else, no, I won’t be hammered tonight because—”

“You’re the designated driver, I know, I know,” Steve waves his hand dismissively before smiling weakly. “Update me about the party?”

“You bet,” Sam says, grinning. “I’m gonna send you tons of photos, you’ll get sick of me.”

“I’m already sick of you.”

“Shut up. You love me,” Sam says, punching him on the arm lightly. Steve rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. “But seriously man, if you need anything, just text me.”

“I will,” Steve replies, before wincing as he feels another throb in his head.

Sam clicks his tongue before placing his hand on Steve’s arm. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“Yeah, I am. I just have to sleep this off,” Steve smiles at him tightly before heading to his bed again.

“Take a rest and I’ll see you tomorrow okay?” Sam says before heading towards the door.

“Okay, stay safe,” Steve responds before closing his eyes as another wave of pain throbs through his head.

 _Fuck. When will this end?_ Steve thinks as he dozes off for the second time that night.

\---

Steve groggily wakes up to the feeling of content and peace. He feels as though something transpired while he was sleeping and he doesn’t have a clue of what it was. He knows the meds he always take for his headaches usually make him drowsy and forgetful, so he doesn't really put much mind to it until he hears a sound coming from outside his room. He slowly opens his eyes and sits up. He grabs his glasses and his phone from the nightstand, before sitting up on his bed properly. After putting on his glasses, he checks his phone for the time.

12:49am

So he didn’t sleep that long, but his head feels a lot better than it did earlier, so he’s counting that as a win. There’s still a light throb at the back of his head, but it’s something that can be remedied by more advil and water.

He gets out of bed, grabs the advil from his nightstand, and makes his way out of his room, yawning while scratching the side of his torso. He makes his way towards the kitchen and downs the advil as soon as he get his hands on a glass of water. His ears, as faulty as they are, catch a sound coming from his tv in the living room, causing his body to stiffen. He doesn’t remember turning his tv on. And he’s sure as hell Sam didn’t do it when he stopped by earlier.

So he silently walks towards his living room, careful not to make a sound. The only source of light in the room is the tv. Thank God he decided to wear his glasses. He’s about to make his way to the tv when a head pops up from the couch.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Steve swears, as he jumps up out of fear, holding his chest with his hand.

“Oh, shit. Sorry,” the figure sits up on the couch causing Steve to take a step backwards. “Hey, hey. It’s me.”

Steve squints his eyes through his glasses and finds Bucky’s eyes staring back at him.

He’s...dreaming.

There’s no other explanation for this. He stares, and stares, and stares at the man sitting on his couch.

Yes. He’s definitely dreaming.

Steve blinks and continues to stare.

“Uh… This is a weird dream,” Steve says to himself. Bucky laughs openly before standing up and walking towards him.

Bucky stops in front of him before smiling gently. “You feeling okay?”

Steve opens and closes his mouth before furrowing his eyebrows in confusion and taking a step back. “I’m confused.”

“What?” Bucky tilts his head sideways, furrowing his eyebrows.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks. “I mean, I’m not opposed to you being here but…”

“You don’t remember?”

“Remember what?” Now, he’s getting more confused.

Bucky chuckles lightly before tucking the stray hair that fell from his bun behind his ears. “I called you two hours ago, asked how you were doing. Then you started blabbering something about your headache and you sounded really off so I came here as soon as possible.”

“How did you get in?” Steve asks, realizing that maybe this isn’t actually a dream. But it doesn't explain how  Bucky got inside his apartment.

“You told me about the key under the small potted plant beside your door. Which we're going to talk about later on because you _never_ put your spare key under anything, especially under a pot.” Bucky’s explanation turned into a lecture and it’s quite endearing if it isn't for the fact that he’s being called out on his bullshit. Tony gave him a similar lecture, something about the shitty security in his apartment complex. Maybe he should really stop putting his spare key under the pot...

“But _why_ are you here? You're supposed to be enjoying yourself at Nat's party.”

“I’d rather be here,” Bucky says unapologetically, causing Steve to gulp.

“Oh,” Steve breathe out.

“Oh,” Bucky teasingly repeats. He grins at Steve before grabbing his wrist and pulling him over to come sit on the couch. “I turned your tv on by the way. I was getting kind of bored. Hope you don’t mind.”

As Steve processes what’s really happening, he settles on the couch next to Bucky and looks at the brunet from head to toe.

“How was Natasha’s party?” Steve asks before his eyes gazes down Bucky’s pants.

Shit.

He shouldn’t have looked down, because now he can’t help but notice how tight Bucky’s pants are. He has to stop himself from biting his lower lip because his head may be hazy, but he’s not stupid enough to actually embarrass himself in front of Bucky.

“It was the same every year. Most of them get hammered, as they should. I only had a few shots of vodka and called it a night. I never drink to get drunk anymore.”

Steve gulps before looking back up to Bucky, sighing in relief when he realizes Bucky didn’t see him check him out.

“Why?” Steve asks out of curiosity.

“I’m getting old. My body can’t handle the same alcohol it could when I was younger.” Bucky smiles at him.

“You’re not even that old,” Steve says, rolling his eyes fondly. That was a bad idea. His head is starting to throb again.

“Once you hit 30, you’ll understand,” Bucky says, staring straight into Steve’s eyes. Steve rolls his eyes again  but this time, he lets out a small smile. “Wanna see some photos from the party?” He asks, causing Steve to nod.

Bucky scoots closer to him and pulls his phone out of his pockets. He unlocks his phone and shows Steve the first photo in the gallery, and Steve can’t help but lean on Bucky’s side. Steve stifles his laughter when he sees the photo of all the other guys from the 107th all lined up and crouching down with Bucky in the center. They’re all wearing similar deadpan expressions in their faces. Steve assumes Natasha is the one taking the picture based on their expressions alone. Bucky swipes to the left and shows him a bunch of photos taken from the party earlier that night. The moment Steve starts laughing though, is the moment they both lost it. They both started laughing unapologetically when Bucky stops at a photo of what looks like Dugan devouring a plate of tacos.

Steve covers his face with his hands as he laughs, the throb in his head is starting to hurt more the longer they laugh.

“What happened?” Steve asks, after his laughter dies down. “He looks—”

“Shitfaced,” Bucky says before laughing again. “It’s because, he is.”

Steve regulates his breathing before taking off his glasses and wiping the tears from his eyes. He cleans his glasses with the hem of his shirt before putting them back on. He blinks once and turns to look at Bucky, only to find the other man already looking at him. The heat on his cheeks spreads up to his ears and down to his neck. He feels like he’s going to explode because Bucky is looking at him with those steel blue eyes of his and he can’t help but stare right back.

He should be uncomfortable finding the other man staring at him like that, but surprisingly, he’s not. If it had been another person in front of him, looking at him the way Bucky is at the moment, he would’ve squirmed and found a way to divert the other person’s attention away from him. He’s the kind of person that wants, _craves_ , for attention but completely panics the moment it’s given to him.

But with Bucky, he finds himself not minding it at all.

“Your head still hurts?” Bucky asks suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Oh.” Steve opens and closes his mouth a few times before shrugging. “Yeah, but it doesn’t hurt as much.”

“Come here,” Bucky says, tugging Steve’s arm gently towards him. “I’m giving you a massage.”

“What?” Steve blinks three times before furrowing his eyebrows at the brunet.

“A head massage,” Bucky says before shrugging his shoulder, like what he just said is not a big deal.

Maybe it isn’t a big deal and Steve is just overthinking things. Bucky is kind, and he’s thoughtful enough to offer Steve a head massage, because he’s _kind_ like that. Maybe. Probably.

“Okay?” Steve says, unsure, before scooting closer to Bucky.

What Steve doesn’t expect though, is Bucky guiding his head on his lap gently. Steve’s heartbeat stutters, and his breath catches in his throat.

“Hey, relax,” Bucky says calmly, squeezing his shoulders lightly. Steve breathes out before relaxing his tensed muscles just like the brunet told him to. Bucky makes an approving sound, smiling down at him. Steve can feel the toned muscles of Bucky’s thighs at the back of his head and it should be uncomfortable… But it’s not.

Bucky starts running his fingers through his hair slowly, and he can feel goosebumps forming on his head because he has never let anyone touch his head besides his mother. So it’s only natural that his touch-starved body is reacting this way.

“So…” Bucky starts as his fingers card through Steve’s hair. “Thanksgiving is only a few weeks away. Got any plans?”

“Oh,” Steve breathes out, his eyes casting down and looking away from Bucky and to the TV screen. A couple of moments pass without a word from Steve.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Bucky asks, his fingers continue to massage Steve’s head.

“I—” Steve clears his throat before chuckling, his chuckle humorless. “I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving anymore.”

Steve looks up at Bucky as he bites his lower lip nervously. Bucky is looking at him with a questioning look, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Why?” He simply asks.

Steve sighs heavily. He might as well get the heavy stuff out of the way.

Steve clenches his jaw before replying, “My ma loved Thanksgiving. She made sure we’d celebrate it every year, even though she was a nurse and was always on duty. She would take a day off just to celebrate Thanksgiving with me. So when she passed away, I stopped celebrating it. I didn’t see the point of continuing the tradition without her.”

Steve takes a deep breath before looking up at Bucky and giving him a sad smile. “What about you? What’re your plans?”

Bucky stares at him for awhile before smiling back, albeit tightly. “I always celebrate Thanksgiving with my family back in Indiana but I have to stay here this year.”

“Why?” Steve asks, before yawning. Bucky never stops carding his fingers through his hair, and he can feel his consciousness drifting the longer Bucky massages his head.

“I have an appointment with my physical therapist the same day as Thanksgiving, so…”

Steve hums before furrowing his eyebrows. “Physical therapist?” Bucky’s hand stops mid massage, and Steve can tell he’s uncomfortable so he shakes his head slightly and says, “You don’t have to tell me. It’s okay.”

“No, no.” Bucky shakes his head. “I just thought I already told you. It’s nothing special. I got into an accident about a year and a half ago.”

Steve pushes himself up to a sitting position and faces Bucky. His head throbs from the sudden movement, and his vision whitens for a split second, but he pays it no mind. “Accident? What happened?”

Bucky shrugs before grabbing his left arm subconsciously. “I was riding my bike back to my place when a drunk guy hit me with his car. It wasn’t too bad but it could be worse. I’m just glad it didn’t do much physical damage.”

Steve stares at his left arm before looking back at Bucky. “Does it hurt? Your left arm, I mean.”

“No, it's—” Bucky looks down on his arm before looking back up at Steve. “It doesn't really hurt anymore. I just have a hard time keeping it still.” Bucky proceeds to show him what he means. He holds up his left hand in front of Steve and at first Steve can’t see anything different but the more he stares at it, the more he notices the shakiness of his hand.

“Oh,” Steve breathes out, his eyebrows shooting up. And without even thinking about it, he reaches out and holds Bucky’s hand with his to keep it from shaking. “Is this why you don’t work at the restaurant anymore?”

Bucky clears his throat before nodding. “Yeah.”

Steve squeezes Bucky’s hand and proceeds to hold it with both of his hands. “Do you miss it? Working at the restaurant?”

“I do. But not as much as I did a year ago.” Bucky squeezes back Steve’s hands causing Steve to look at him. The brunet gives him a warm smile and he can’t help but smile back. He retracts his hands, feeling slightly embarrassed from the sudden boldness of his actions.

“Are you feeling better?” Bucky asks suddenly before bringing up his right hand and pushing away Steve’s fringe away from his face. Steve swallows down the urge to lean in his touch. Fuck. What the hell is he doing? He’s blaming all of this on his headache and the advil he took a while ago.

“Yeah,” Steve replies, a sudden lump forming in his throat. “Thank you.”

“I was thinking…” Bucky starts.

“What?” Steve asks before holding his breath, as he waits for Bucky's reply.

Bucky clears his throat discreetly before replying “I was thinking… Maybe you’d like to celebrate Thanksgiving with me?”

Steve blinks, then gulps.

“I—” Steve opens and closes his mouth a few times, surprised by the Bucky’s question.

“It’s just a suggestion,” Bucky says. “You don’t have to answer right away.”

He lets out a deep breath before nodding. “I’ll think about it.”

Bucky chuckles lightly. “That’s what you said about Nat’s party.”

“I mean it,” Steve says sincerely. “I mean it this time.”

“Yeah?” Bucky tilts his head to the right.

“Yeah,” Steve replies as he nods his head before giving him a warm smile. “I kind of miss it, if I’m being honest.”

“Thanksgiving?” Bucky supplies, causing Steve to nod. Bucky smiles before continuing, “You’re welcome to join me, if you want. Just let me know.”

“I’ll text you,” Steve says, smiling back at Bucky.

They sit there in comfortable silence for a while before Bucky stands up and says, “You’re probably hungry. Let me make you something.”

“You don’t have to,” Steve replies. And as if on cue, his stomach rumbles.

“I should definitely make you something.” Bucky smiles at him teasingly before starting to walk away. Steve follows him with his eyes before he disappears into the kitchen. He hears him going through his cupboards, opening and closing his fridge, and basically doing his own thing in the kitchen.

Steve yawns on his hand before lying back down on the couch. He’s still feeling kind of drowsy from the advil he took earlier, and he fights the urge to fall asleep right then and there.

But maybe closing his eyes for a moment won’t hurt…

\---

Steve opens his eyes slowly, squinting from the sunlight coming from his bedroom window, and just for a moment, he forgets.

That moment passes and he abruptly sits up on his bed and grabs his phone to see the time. It’s 8:36am. Fragments of memories resurface, and Steve remembers—

He remembers waking up in the middle of the night just to find Bucky in his apartment. He remembers laughing with Bucky. He remembers Bucky giving him a head massage. He remembers lying down on the couch just to close and rest his eyes, while Bucky goes through his kitchen.

So that doesn’t exactly explain why he’s in his room and not outside in the living room.

Surely Bucky didn’t carry him from the couch to his bed. That’s the least plausible reason as to why he’s sitting up on his bed and not on his couch. There’s just no way Bucky—

Bucky.

Fuck. Is he still here? Or did he leave when he saw him sleeping on the couch?

However, he doesn’t get the chance to ponder on the question and spiral himself into panic, because the moment the question popped into his mind, he hears a loud bang coming from outside his room, undoubtedly a pan falling on the floor, and Sam—it’s Sam, without a doubt— yelling,

“Who the hell are you?!”

It’s eight-thirty in the morning and Steve wants to tears his hair out. Literally.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're still here, thank you so muuuuuch for reading this. i really appreciate it <3 let me know what you think. if you have some suggestions, feel free to send me a message on my tumblr/twitter account. anyways, i hope you enjoyed. i love you guys soooo much. see you on the next update <3 xx
> 
> twitter: defrostedbucky  
> tumblr: defrostedbuck


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